by Carol Casey The August sun has almost spun the straw to gold in the large stack behind the barn. We take turns sliding down its side, whooping in the earthy smell, the scratchy stalks tickling. Not sure why I go down backward, push off so hard. I land with a thump on almost…
by William Thompson I wake sometimes, knowing my sister has been looking at me—about to say something, but she never does. The words of blame never come. That came from my father, but even he never spoke the words that have condemned me for almost three decades, not even in…
by Rebecca Carenzo “If you can guess what I have in my pocket, you can have it.” “Excuse me?” I ask, turning to face the harried-looking stranger who’d just addressed me out of the blue. I didn’t have a chance to finish my answer before I felt the forceful jab…
by Kristina Swaim 5 My head plunged below the surface of the water. The water erupted in a tornado of movement. I dug my painted nails into the curved edge of the clawfoot tub as I tried to free myself from his grip. I just love him so much. Why…
By Maria Lipiskova Translated by Martin Zlatev It can be black and white as a poem about the women reflected in the eyeglasses moving over the flat shadows of this winter Peterburg with black shoes like scissors in which the steps entered their black hands and black gestures in the…
By Cameron Burry His breath lay thick in the air, pumping out rhythmically like the exhaust from an old pickup truck. Though it was well into the middle of spring, the chill of the winter winds had not yet given up their claim on the stretch of dilapidated farmland that…