By: Gaither Stewart Her two roommates, Piera and Paola, reconstructed that Priscilla had been missing since noon on December 31. To the police agents twenty-four hours did not sound like a long absence but for Piera and Paola it was…
By:: Gaither Stewart The parable is told of the boiling of a frog. If you put it in boiling water the frog will jump out as soon as it feels the heat. But if you put it in cold water…
By: Janna Vought When I hit the windshield, I think about laundry in the dryer, chicken for dinner thawing on the counter—my daughters. I land in the space between the nothing, tangled up in my headphone wires. My body shatters, pieces…
By: Janna Vought Elizabeth Báthory, 1560-1614, history’s most prolific serial killer, accused of torturing and killing hundreds of young women, then bathing in her victim’s blood. I’m shadow, a symbol cast to paper. I’m myth ravaged by hungry heat, bloated with…
By: William Ogden Haynes Today I found my father’s old wristwatch. The battery was finally dead, although it probably lasted about a year longer than he did, dependably counting the minutes in case someone wanted to glance at the correct time….
By: William Ogden Haynes I was a young professor with a newly-minted doctorate driving south from Ohio to work at Auburn University. I pulled my old Chevy into a used car dealership and before I could get out of the car,…
By: Sasheera Gounden I I was sitting in the waiting room with fear soaking my armpits leaving a trail of odour behind. The many eyes surrounding my retina were repugnant. People tend to judge you if you’re a bit strange. I,…
By: Ruth Asch The trees in silhouette, laid flat by grey light: old keepsakes, dry and frail, pressed on a page of sky. Only one blot – twigs knotted, lodged aslant; a reckless crafting, proffered to the winds or hungry eye….
By: Ruth Asch They are rebuilding proud Palmyra from kebab-sticks, (the pride of peoples, razed to dust.) One can no longer sit by a temple wall to write of doubt, from ramparts satirize the world of power; party, or paint a…
By: Chuck Orloski Midnight in D.C. – Smithsonian museum glass glare, no one around but for security cameras. The Bunker family stayed up late, emerged from bunker, and took seats upon favorite chairs. Archie’s politics stunk for Edith, she actually “pulled…