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 Lisa Harris Hijacked— shadows recede and light breaks open in a sunrise and later dissolves on the horizon as it sets. Light shatters when a bulb falls on the floor at our feet. Shards are swept beneath a rug. They work their way through fabric to cut the feet…
by Christy Bailes Silky froth seeps through the window cracks and battles with a 1950s cast-iron radiator heater. The smell of vanilla frosting wakes Anne from two-hour’s worth of slumber. Still dressed with last night’s clothes, she sits up in bed. Vodka and pill bottles tumble off her legs and…
by Jonel Abellanosa Beethoven knew my life Would take this turn and slow, Seeing me leaning for hours Watching window panes turn White from yellow, then gray, Listening again and again To how he emptied the music Of its vast and endless longings. He waited for night’s sacramental Wafer to…
by Meghan Hawthorn Appearing alive. I call that art. Her body framed by a red chair, cigarette hanging from a limp hand and slouched to one side. Bright red lips parted slightly, seductive eyes half-open and glazed over under caked-on eyeliner and mascara. She looks almost unamused with one boot…
by Loren Stephens I moved to Los Angeles with my five-year-old son so that my ex-husband, a literary agent at the time, could take on some parenting responsibilities since he had no desire to travel across the country to Boston, which he had escaped after our divorce. I interviewed for…
by Kevin Casey The winter stays put in its corner — an ash bucket, unhandled and dented, hungering for embers the summer stole to paint that sunrise while you slept. The sun rose like a a child’s red spade, and dug its way through apricot and amber, saffron and sand,…
by Kevin Sanders “What is wrong with this generation?” We hear it all the time; its words uttered like a mantra, whose sole purpose is to soften the blow of witnessed stupidity. What is wrong with this generation? Our lost, downtrodden, desperate, dismal, disillusioned generation? I say this with all…
by Joanna Wolford Bernie was sleeping comfortably in his recliner until he got the uneasy feeling that someone was standing over him. He peeled his eyes open just enough to see his wife Aggie, but he refused to open his eyes fearing that she would make him get up, and…
by Kristal Peace Mother used to stand Five foot four, She was proud Of her ability To do sums. Mother used to dream Of doing more Than being paid To drown her pride In other people’s dish water. Mother had an accent She said it kept people From seeing her…
by Brett Miller A Spin on Isaac’s Wheel I was born wide-eyed and clueless into a world liberally dyed in patterns any child could appreciate. With little transition, a chromatic shift induced a rapid decline into biodegradable Amway products and butterscotch upholstery; Avon catalogs and avocado appliances. Before the tropical…