mustangisland
mustangisland

Poem: Allyson Whipple

On Mustang Island Nothing is cool, not even the water. Fish roll through waves. No point complaining about weather. You get tossed in any condition. Waves thrash a smitten man. And me. Ocean salt mingles with mine. Sand grinds skin he wishes he could touch. I don’t fall in love on beaches. Allyson Whipple makes … Continue reading

abbatoir

Story: Matthew Vasiliauskas

Abattoir They found his body yesterday, or was it today, they couldn’t really remember. He had been at the abattoir longer than any of them, and suddenly dropped dead while carrying a headless hog. There was something about the way he maneuvered torsos that seemed almost like an art to them. It was all balletic, … Continue reading

theriverthesky

Poem: Anthony DiMatteo

The River, The Sky Paul Klee said he would work so as not to cry. But where do tears go if not to the same root? Compressing the sky into a single bolt is hard work even for the sky, much less the artist rubbing a bow on the edge of a sheet of tin … Continue reading

side_effects

Story: Michael James

Side Effects The sound of the dishwasher follows her into the room. “The doctor called this morning.”   “Yes or no?”   “Come into the bedroom. There’s no light here. It’s depressing.”  “Sure. Gimme a minute?”   Her nod is a statement. She leaves the room. This will be a serious conversation. And he knows how … Continue reading

thetable

Poem: Sarah Suzor & Travis Cebula

The Table We’ll walk out. Yes. Morning, our fate will bear down on us like forever, like until, like never, like every minute before or since piled onto our chests. Until never turns into now. Until always slowly blurs into when. But. Until then, we’ll share what we can. After the fox, after even the … Continue reading

itsarisk

Double Dose Poem: Simon Perchik

It’s a risk, these clouds gathered in the open, grow huge take on the shape they need though once inside this jar escape is impossible –you collect a cloud whose mist no one studies anymore, comes from a time rain was not yet the rain pressing against your forehead and your mouth too has aged … Continue reading

youcomeheretobathe

Poem: Simon Perchik

You come here to bathe –the dirt warm though the ocean underneath is breaking apart on the rocks – you almost drown, crushed by the immense light covered over grave after grave and all these stones adrift beneath your hands and one day more lower and lower, washed with the drop by drop oozing out … Continue reading

lamentations

Story: Amber Simpson

Lamentations My four uncles were drunk at their sister’s funeral. No one told them not to have beer—not my grieving father or the funeral director behind bottle-cap glasses. They threw the empty cans in the bin by the casket meant for tissues. There were wet tissues in there, too, but you couldn’t see them for … Continue reading

ourselvesweremade

Poem: Laurin Becker Macios

Our Selves Were Made for Something and We Searched for It When we found ourselves there it was March and quiet with snow. Flakes scented like sliced apple lazed down—gathered, melted on a striped cat’s fur. Mountains loomed like hangnails, hurt a little. Each moment was a textbook full of how. We found a brown … Continue reading

monday

Story: Daniel Leach

Monday You park, kill the engine, and stare at the brick façade, your hands stuck at ten and two, the car quiet as a tomb. It is time to go inside, and yet, you sit and stare, refusing to unfasten the seatbelt that is leaving a savagely deep wrinkle in your new shirt, refusing even … Continue reading

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