by Jason Grant The entire king-sized bed is mine now, but I can’t seem to move from the left side to the right because on the nights you were here—laying there—if I dared move from my side to yours in the middle of the night it was like I-was-crossing-some-boundary you-needed…
By Christopher Keller rays bend glass-caught straw as she bends to her purse; each iris darts a dimly-lit direction. cone-colored thoughts, lingering in rods, occipital interpretations; a blink – sensory memory keeps curves in Polaroid transgression at a refraction of the cost. trapped forever in devouring focus, she stirred something…