Don’t Bother, They’re Here

By Meg Pokrass
“Guess what, Hon? They’re here!” you said, referring to the clowns. They were pounding on our door.

Gone Hunting

By Binx R. Perino
Danny sucks the wet end of a cigarette, tapping his hand on the steering wheel. Wisps of Maggie’s hair whip around from the rolled-down windows.

Cuata

By Tisha Marie Reichle-Aguilera
All my life they called me Cuata. But I was the only one born whole. Mi hermano, Juan, neverbreathed. But I heard him cry.

Kingdom Come

By D.E. Hardy
Still, I hunger for you: those nights we’d get so high we turned into earthworms, how we would writhe, reverent, our entire bodies capable of taste...

Grace at the Intersection of Cass and Nebraska

By Joanna Theiss
Today, I saw you accepting a dollar bill from a truck window. The shake of your hips as you thanked the driver reminded me of your electric slide at the middle school dance.

Post-It Mortem

By Dave Donovan
Life got too complex for Dan. Job. Wife. Kids. Yard. So he bought a block of Post-It notes and found a calmess in the sticky squares...

Photo Story: A Hundred Different Kinds of Rain

By Karen Walker
Lost rain wandering parking lots and highways in search of the earth. Down-on-its-luck rain watering plastic petunias on a twentieth-floor balcony.

Betty’s Begonia

By Sharon Boyle
They buried Betty between bomb raids in a no-fuss, grassy grave. Overnight the sod erupted with vagina-pink begonias.

Marrakesh

By Gay Degani
Rosemary, mint, and donkey dung perfume the hot, dry air. Hawkers croon siren songs as I meander crowded alleys, ignoring patterned baskets...

Photo Story: The Cakes She Promised to Bake

By Mary Amato
Marjorie hadn’t noticed that one of the eggs was broken until she arrived home. Once, she had been the kind of person to check before purchasing.

Southern Discomforts

By Molly Giles
Dean’s wife was in one of her moods, she had a lot of moods, that girl, and she burst into the party baited for bear.

After attending an anti-war protest in Hyde Park

By Sam Payne
A fatality on the line at Acton stops the trains leaving Paddington and we stare at the departure boards, eyes still stinging from the tear gas.