“When the sound of Jays on concrete makes a sob crawl up your throat, finger the nylon like prayer beads. Recite his middle name until it sounds like a chant.”
Excerpt taken from ‘Mourning Rites’ by Simone John.
After we were cloned, I felt the many parts breathe.
Poetry from Fisayo Adeyeye
One Day in the Life of
I think I’m a natural cat.
Feature from Kaveh Akbar
Dearest, I’ll go anywhere that memory can’t find me.
Poetry from Jessica Bixel
An Interview with
A question is an acknowledgement of the unknown.
Feature from Jack Cheng
Subtropical Port Cities
I learned to fear the things more lovely than me.
Poetry from Emily Connelly
The body and the space it occupied: dispersed.
Poetry from Shastra Deo
The Waiting Room
A bare-throated finch trying to fill the desert clefs.
Poetry from Helli Fang
Cut the net from the rim and place it in your purse.
Poetry from Simone John
Three Little Words
They are the flow of the sea and they sail at will.
Feature from Rossy Evelin Lima
This is snow. This is how an owl curves.
Poetry from Matthew Mahaney
I try to protect you from the world’s inevitable sting.
Nonfiction from Melissa Matthewson
Sweet Slid into Snow
A bloom blister of mother & swollen mosquito cheek.
Poetry from Sarah Maria Medina
we were not anatomical
Friends who breathed in ageless dispositions.
Poetry from meryem nuh
The Truth About Distance
I am missing nothing.
Fiction from Gen Del Raye
Un-nameable things, which must, however, be named.
Poetry from Heidi A. Restrepo Rhodes
In the Antarctic Circle
Our pleasure shivers toward the cluttered sea.
Poetry from Dennis James Sweeney
It is a terrible thing to assume creation.
Poetry from Talin Tahajian
The Art of
I get inspired by working in our vegetable garden.
Feature from Lieke van der Vorst