Intimates by Sarah Carey We were told to label our mother’s clothesto reduce the risk of loss so all the pieces I retrievedwhen she died are marked in permanent ink as if her smell was not enough to testifyshe lived. Nothing fit me but a pair of panties so I wash and...
Imported: Fruit by Eric Odynocki FRUIT: IMPORTED After Jericho Brown Time to buy fruit, a relishing plethora That I weigh, inspect for spots, to tell what’s ripe. Dad would complain, How can you tell what’s ripe? Fruit aisles sit sterile, barren of...
Teenage Landlord by Philip Schaefer Yes, you are the king of your country, but the country shimmers soft pewter, not gold. The confit feasts must be microwaved, the moat must be plumbed. Your breath smells like a C + w/a hint of soccer practice. Let me teach you about...
Peacock by Michael Rogner My mother sends cards with sneaking birds ready to slip forth like this one titled Peacock painted by a child trying not to die from cancer. The peacock has one huge eye backwardly reflecting these strange colors looming. Purple molars and...
The Opposite of Sin by Jad Josey She’d walked past him moments before backing over the man. She was refreshing her timeline, glancing right and left on the way to her car. The man had leered at her, his gaze scraping the length of her body. The bridge of his nose was...
