Francesca Bell – After

After Once the body was wrenched whole from my body I deflated sank back into being ordinary a vessel returned purposeless to its shelf I hadn’t known until first the father and then the son swelled to fill my emptiness that I was a space a lack that walked through the world or danced or […]

Barbara Parchim – cephalopod

cephalopod my arm in the tank up to my elbow, a sudden shock of cold and then his tentacles are wrapping around my forearm – each suction cup operating independently an alien intimacy – alarming at first, then oddly comforting, like wearing a thunder shirt during a storm gentle but firm, he explores – he […]

Elisabeth Adwin Edwards – The Nurse

The Nurse You can feel his fingers can’t you wrapped in smooth blue nitrile how they taper to their ends almost feminine elegant, surprising given the ten years he’s spent holding death’s messes in his hands as he cradles your chin softly telling you Let’s load up you who may or may not hear, your […]

Pamela Lucinda Moss – The Stories We Tell

The Stories We Tell Sometimes I say my father is a truck driver even though the man can’t manage to back the minivan out of our driveway without branches etching lines on the passenger side. I’ve always been the only kid at school with a scientist for a father, let alone an entomologist for a […]

Sharon Hashimoto – What Energies Hold Us Together

What Energies Hold Us Together Inside the car, two voices strike the tinted windshield and bounce back— echoes of the same argument about love, about who gives and who takes while the sun blazes down, blistering red rashes on the driver’s forearm. A swerve in the road; the steering wheel slides through fingers and a […]