You stand there silently, breathing candy breath into your mask until your face gets damp. Your best friends are cheerleaders, witches, fairies. But you’re just a structure of a person, an outline of a body, quiet and haunted.
Read MoreDrug Facts by Hillary Adams
"The first will make you numb, but you’ll be thin so everyone will tell you how good you look and that should equate happiness, or at least not wanting to die."
Read MoreDelta by Dionne Irving
We didn’t have friends on board. We didn’t have friends of friends on board. And we hadn’t ever even been to Miami, or to Brazil. So we went about our day. We made coffee.
Read MoreTwo Poems by Jo Blair Cipriano
Death reminds me too much of myself./ I mean, if you watched an animal die/ in agony, would you still enjoy eating its flesh?
Read MoreJack in Search of a Mother by Alison Kinney
Jack looked at his own two feet dangling over the giant's shoulder. He thought about how small he was next to the giant, beside the sea.
Read MoreA Normal Interview with Manuel Muñoz by Manuel Farias
"What we think is a really small, isolated place turns out to be the center of somebody else’s world."
Read MoreShadow Work by Soramimi Hanarejima
After work, we meet in the park near your office to swap shadows.
Read MoreChronostasis by Sarah Fawn Montgomery
Tamogotchis are everywhere in middle school, cradled in our hands during math when we learn about angles and remainders, the goal to take what is whole and break it apart. The egg buzzes several times a day as a reminder that survival is not guaranteed.
Read MoreTwo Poems by Karen An-hwei Lee
Angelenos call the phenomenon of swarming water bees
a congregation as in a church
Early Days by Carol M. Quinn
Lisa will not sit down, will not shut her eyes any longer than it takes to blink, because when she does, she has learned, her muscles begin to release and the room lilts gently from one side to the other and she cannot trust her arms to keep hold of her baby.
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