Volume 8 Number 2
The polar bears have come down off the ice, now that there’s no more ice to be had. They wander through the streets, gazing forlornly…
After my daughter died, I gathered pieces of her from around the apartment. I found strands of hair in a hairbrush, dandruff flakes on her…
When fire eats the corner house, I walk a different way. I don’t like the bones of it, how easily the snow blows through. There…
How many eggs are we supposed to hide now that we’re down one hunter, Karla says. It’s Easter morning, and we’re sitting in the living…
Mom will be the first in her family to die in a hospice. It’s my turn to stand vigil, and my hand is wrinkled from…
My mother took to keeping tigers. The backyard became the enclosure. I couldn’t sleep in my own bed. Too many eyes, tiger eyes, looked at…
I stack dingy t-shirts beside my big brother’s bed—red, and green, and gray. No, he says, The order is wrong. Green goes on top, then…
one day after school you told me you were wiccan, a real-life witch, and that you could do anything, so i hung up the phone,…
A few days into their visit, my home starts to look like theirs. Loaves of whole wheat bread line the kitchen table, along with paper…
Except he can’t—the stories about not being able to squeeze onto buses, the inability to put him to sleep while sprawled out on an operating…