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By Jade Y. Liu
At winter’s final surrender, my kitchen becomes a graveyard for ants. Their bodies fall in clusters, form families of crumpled black petals beside an aging apple, last night’s forgotten toast. The poison...
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an invite to Oma, to join me in queer time

By Britt McGillivray
/ h1 {text-align: center;} p {text-align: center;} div {text-align: center;} I think you’ll like it here the way you liked to join me at Harrison Hot Springs in the adult tub I...
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Seeds the Dead Had Planted Way, Way Back When They Were Living Have Begun to Bear Fruit

By Karen Massey
Above the pushed-up daisies, the dead will wait with you, some fuss about, noctambulant or slowly pace the garden, limned in moonlight, some rise like wisps, phosphorescent, hovering above the bog. But...
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Autobiography of a Father in Six Photos

By Leanne Shirtliffe
1. The day after he marries Mama, he leans back on the broadside of a 1960 Pontiac with a tail as long as his spine is tall. His right hand curls around...
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That Pale And Distant Season

By Dominique Bernier-Cormier
Today, scientists wonder how migrating birds remember their way south each fall, what complex mnemonic plays like a song in their head, year after year. But for millennia, we simply asked where...
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I’ll Blossom For You

By Dessa Bayrock
Deep in Saskatchewan there is a wax museum filled with discount versions of Carly Rae Jepsen and some of them are quite good, actually: her spine supple, her cheeks peachy-but-not-too-peachy, the slink...

Meditations Between Emergencies

By Marika Prokosh
After Frank O’Hara / The night before they table the city budget I walk to Sherbrook Pool after dinner and for the first time this year the sun is still visible, or...

This Spring

By Kamila Rina
I am sitting cross-legged on my couch, watching my breathing intently like a miracle or a disaster in the making, paying attention to each slide of smooth muscle along the rib cage,...

I’ll Dial Your Number

By Jane Shi
5 You offer to run him over with your wheelchair. I come to you deceived and smelling of fish oil. You pat my back with your hospital gown grin. It’s so soft...