Tears roll down his cheeks, as Ray stares at the uneaten cheeseburger, cold and congealing on his plate
By Cecil Morris
The embryo that bloomed ectopic in the wife // who left me would be 45 this year and lives // in the cryogenic regions of my brain
My Thaathaa - grandfather in Tamil - is dozing off as I complete a set of ritualized breathing exercises while quietly chanting in Sanskrit.
By Peter Rustin
Thirty minutes ago: the calm droning of the red-eye from JFK to Los Angeles. The cabin lights dimmed. Two teenage sisters sleeping, in pastel sweatshirts, heads nestled, sharing a pair of earbuds linked to an iPhone.
The antique store hides // a portal to the underworld // behind a wall of maps // of places that don’t exist.
By Chris Corlew
willow-white duck // the blistered // spigot squirts not only for you // but for my irradiated necktie
By J. A. Hersh
They were driving straight down a dark road, their little green car bumping on the potholes. It wasn’t a long drive back to their apartment. Fifteen minutes or so.
“Jane, the taste the taste, you have no idea, Jane.” Typing texting toiling tighter to a tik-tok than ever paid to do in an office.
By Stefanie Lee
I’ll tell you about how I’ve been remembering myself in the silver crucifixes and imaginary cracks of light underneath a centuries-old door frame. About how I find smudges of my soul on everything I touch, bones, dirt, the paper-thin resolve in my hands. It’s dark, you know.
Indoors, faith's crumb turned my without force // as a red need - the language, the // locate plan.