Image of train station terminal and tunnel

Fatality on the Tracks by Patrick Hicks

January 11, 2023

Molten steel fills my ribcage,
my teeth are barbed-wire,
but the killer bees I want to spit
are stuck on the flypaper of my tongue.

A Normal Interview with Will Betke-Brunswick by Sydney Allison Hinton

January 4, 2023

"People expect mammals to smile and frown, to have expressive eyebrows, and to make certain gestures with their hands, arms, and front legs. Drawing flightless birds frees me from so many expectations and gives me more space to play."

Eagle Beach by Maxwell Suzuki

January 4, 2023

There are echoes of a childhood and a boy I can just barely remember. There has been an ache in my stomach for me to return.

The blurred image of a subway racing down the tracks.

Fairy Tale by Sharmila Voorakkara

December 21, 2022

“The children stare into space. No one here knows what too much means.”

Two Poems by Nicole Santalucia

December 14, 2022

" then woman, not in the way of suffering or resentment, but in the way of queer and of magic. take a fistful of dirt and poof."

Image of an antique book open to a page of South America, on periphery a tea mug and a computer

Geography by Tita Ramirez

December 14, 2022

None of this was ever a problem before, but sitting there looking at that pee stick, it hit me: if I was going to have to explain the world to someone else, it was a huge problem. I had nine months to learn everything. More like eight, really.

Image of skeleton ribcage against bright turquoise background

Marie by Eliza Sullivan

December 14, 2022

Bones tell stories. They hold intangible memories.

Self-Portrait, Fourteen Miles and Twenty-Three Minutes from the Interstate by Daniel Garcia

December 7, 2022

Of time, there’s this: the pink stripes around the neck in the mirror after, which was the most surprising—as if to mimic the sky was as simple as pulling its color into one’s cheeks.

A Normal Interview with Katie Ives By Rosie Bates

December 7, 2022

Climbing can be an enticing pursuit for writing because a climb is a natural story… Basically, anytime you go on a climb, even if it’s just a backyard climb, you’re tracing a narrative or the form of a narrative arc with your hands and your feet.

Wolf Biter by Sarah Viren

December 7, 2022

When our habits deform our bodies, we can’t hide the proof of what we do.

Photo of Tommy Keene in a car, head on shoulders, gazing out of the window at night.

All These Things Engulfing Me by Joe Bonomo

December 7, 2022

"I can see the singer looking hopefully at the person with whom he’s speaking, seeing the kindness in their shining eyes, understanding the words they offer yet singing, in that eternal melancholia of melody, the real truth."

Image of two people from the shoulders up, lying down wearing VR headsets and headphones, purple and blue lighting

OptiDream Third-Generation 3Gen Original Dream Machine 100+ Stimuli & More by Devon Halliday

December 7, 2022

but at some point in every dream I end up scraping my teeth out of my mouth

High On Dopamine He Wants You Back by Christine Butterworth-McDermott

November 30, 2022

So you loved men who combusted, / spontaneously gave yourself to the flammable, / stripped yourself bare / for their ovens, splayed yourself for their driptorches.

Seasons by DW McKinney

November 30, 2022

She drinks to forget and drinks to feel different in her skin. She drinks to be someone else and drinks because she feels things she isn’t supposed to feel – because she is Black and Christian and because her parents raised her better.

Image of a man's shadow, holding a phone, reflected against a white wall with two empty photo frames.

Ghosting by Sarp Sozdinler

November 30, 2022

I imagined his spidery fingers hovering over his phone all night, at once touching and not touching it like the soft spots of my body.

Moonlit wolf standing, alert, in a green meadow.

This I Know by Julie Woodward

November 16, 2022

My headlights are on. They carve small spaces into the night. I want to shed this skin and curl myself into their void. I want to tuck myself into their cold. I want to be consumed by their nothingness. I want to be swallowed whole, too.

Night time, a police car with its blue lights alight on the roof of the car.

The Night’s Not Finished, but It’s Leaning Against the Wall by Taylor Collier

November 16, 2022

All/ day you’ve been plunking rusted metal / into your purse, and I never stopped to / ask what you really wanted

A foggy nature scene: trees and a stony creek.

Up Brown Jug Creek by Catherine Halley

November 9, 2022

Of course, this isn’t the witch-thick forest you read about in a fairytale. I am surrounded by green, fast-growing trees and shrubs—buckthorn and black locust and honeysuckle—relentlessly spreading along the banks of the stream. The trunks bow out over the water and form a canopy of shade.

An adult's pair of hands and one child's hand. They are manicured, and wearing rings.

Three Poems by L Favicchia

November 9, 2022

"i hold a tissue paper body/ as long as i can, / or until i must exhale."

Image of two people's legs, one person in black tights and high heels and another beside them in floral pants and sneakers. There is gold confetti on the wood floor.

Movie Stubs by Sophia Veltfort

November 9, 2022

In the weeks leading up to my friend’s wedding, instead of studying for the GRE, I’d made mental tallies of people I dreaded but could reasonably expect to see in Poland.