by B.A. Brittingham So many nights I visited you alone—For we were both solitary; I above anddealing with the world of cars, groceries,jobs, laundry, and you below finding your wayin the what-comes-after world, wearing yourdenim jacket and embroidered shirt (stitchedby my own hand) resting in that forever pose.We were alone and yet close, a […]
by Stephen Ruffus Sleep remains spectral in a blue light,saturated and dispersed in a prism.He ripples out like water drawn tothe horizon until it rushes back again.Or even more truly, he walks upa steep path with seemingly no end,trees on both sides giving him comfortthen descends toward the housewhere he lives. Although untetheredfrom him we
On the anniversary of his passing Read More »
by Elizabeth Cooper After the beach you kissed me for the first time. “We taste salty” you said – as though the sea had synthesised us swirled us into a single thing with a single flavour. Moments later remnants of sand on skin rubbed away the outlines of our individual bodies. Elizabeth Cooper is an
by Charlie Brice In memory of the 270 souls lost in theJune 12, 2025 crash of Air India flight 171 Sweating in his dhoti, the little man pushes his cart alongbrick streets under a cruel sun. Engine roar makes himlook at the plane rising. How much rice does he spill on Ahmedabad’s bumpy streetswhere
by Pamela Hobart Carter after Deborah Digges Notice the last brightness leave the field at its back,ignoring it into a nonexistence. Ants, crows, squirrels—always up to something.We board the bus to sail beyond earthly gravity, or step onto the slack rope, precarious over a canyon.A kind of buoyancy like a hot
by Nicholas Olah I take a walk in the dark. Crickets and fist-sized frogs are close; a breeze carries belly laughsfrom across the pond. Otherwise,I am alone. I think about how I have loved you and you will never know this. I think about holding my broken parts up to the light but the days are shortening again. It happens every year—the light dims and leaves.
by Evan Balkan Her name was Susan Goldstein. She joined our class in late September. When Mrs. Joyce introduced her, Susan’s face shaded scarlet. Sitting in the desk next to hers, I could feel her radiating a prickly heat as she mumbled, “Clover.” “Clover,” Mrs. Joyce pronounced. “Okay. I think we can handle that,” she
by Garry Engkent By the time Ah-mah finished consulting the I-Ching, I was worried that we might be running late. But she had insisted her rites be done before we could drive her cousin to the airport. So, I fetched the mail—two bills and a letter—as she jotted down her numbers for the lottery. The
by Marc Rosenberg So it came to pass, in 1965, “The Colt 45s” baseball team would change its name to “The Houston Astro(naut)s” to play in the first ever domed stadium – the Astrodome. The National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA), headquarters for astronautical travel was just down the road, so the name was appropriate.
Lesbians on the moon Read More »
by Eve Naden We’re on holiday, our first together. Corfu, Greece. We’re traditional in this way. A pricey villa, white sand, sugary cocktails. Nights out on the town, over-pronouncing foreign words. Our pool: breath-taking for the first 24 hours, then a spa for the neighbourhood insects for the rest of our trip. We’re halfway through.