By Karan Kapoor
I brisk walk with the breeze every morning. By noon I am the ardor of a tornado. I am born on the last Sunday of every month. I am working on a...


By Bola Opaleke
Father says beware of snakes walking on two legs— reptiles who will open the door of your beautiful name to mispronunciation; quiz & other you around. This country, she makes a room...

“L’dor Va’dor”

By Erin Kirsh
We can’t pinpoint the original wound that made parents of all our family’s daughters set our teeth to points. My bubbe dies vicariously on ancestry.com squirrels away names and townships, aims correspondence...

“A Reverse Elegy (wherein the hands of the clock are the hands of a baby who has yet to discover she has hands)”

By Shannan Mann
“In another time I knew so much about you.” —Agha Shahid Ali I remember you well, mother, fluming like in-bloom magnolias unstitched by wind, to the August sauna of our Honda. At...
Contest Winner


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...
Contest Winner

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...
Contest Winner

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...
Contest Winner

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...
Contest Winner

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...