Day: 6 March 2017

Angie Sijun Lou

Some muffled auditory convulsion comes from the adjacent window, shades drawn shut and Christmas lights lit up just to ignore the summer. I look up at the horizon overlooking the fire escape – the jagged, continuous line I’ve known since I was young, towers reaching upwards and towards the ocean just to prove that it’s a city. Dusk bathes this infant sky in pixels of dark pink and grey.

Natalia Hero

So I can’t drink, and we both know why. I get too crazy. I can’t talk to you anymore, and we both know why. And I can’t hurt myself, I can’t keep hurting myself in the usual ways, that’s what you and everyone and the doctors say. So what am I left with? You’re asking me to just sit here, just stew in this reality, rot and fester until I’m gamey and ugly and I decompose into nothing. What am I left with? You said I could pick my poison. So I picked.

Henry Giardina

Our young man would often spend his nights at their house. Claire would cook them dinner, and Antonio would regale them with tales of his job as a Bank of America clerk on Main street downtown. Oh, the characters he met there! He told of all types, all kinds of people in financial straights, making odd requests, and asking him why they didn’t carry lollipops in the foyer.

Kristen Arnett

To the chair, lodged infected in our bloodstream, we have placed fear and reverence and yes, we have put love there, too. Slash the seat and let the dust fly up. Recognize that in loving the chair, we have reveled in nostalgia. Pull the teeth from our asses and know that most of the teeth are our own. Offer up the chair to the fire and do not put it out at the curb for another family to absorb into their household.

Miles Preston-Clark

He was setting their plates now. He was asking her what she wanted to eat first but she couldn’t answer. There were so many choices and she was so far away now, in another town, in another universe where there was no her. Only him and Stacy and the entire lifetime she thought only she could give him now.

Talin Tahajian

The not-church is my bedroom
& my soft-stained sink. The not-church is everything you, boy, think you know.
I’ve seen your books. I’ve seen your pen.