Artifacts by Veronica Montes The archaeologist, I’ve noticed, cycles through the same two hundred or so photographs and stories. Tonight she will post a beaded dress from the reign of King Khufu, but this afternoon she has shared the ivory…
cottonmouth
cottonmouth by Audra Kerr Brown ma dont sit with the baby no more not since pa caught her starin barebreasted at the lantern light found his boy beneath the feather tick pale and limp as a stillborn pig pa he…
The (almost entirely true) Story of Jessie and the Mountain
The (almost entirely true) Story of Jessie and the Mountain by Dreena Collins Jessie would not go. They told her that she had to move. The mountain, y mynydd, was sliding ever closer: inching and scuttling shingle and stone, until one…
November
November by Sarah Freligh Month of mold and radiators, month when girls are marched single file into the sneaker stink of the boys’ gym where we’re sized up and partnered off, even the holy roller girls who dance with each…
Beating the Herring
Beating the Herring by Marie Gethins Cross to shoulder, you bear the burden, sleeves covered in white fragments. A single herring remains. It trembles, glinting silver, then gold in the Easter Morning light. The river beckons. Earlier, a row of…
In The Arms of Khajuraho, 970 CE
In The Arms of Khajuraho, 970 CE by Tara Isabel Zambrano I am all stone, the monolith giving way to a slight slope below my navel. For a moment it seems as if a dark river has appeared between my…
In Whitby you may have the misfortune to be caught
In Whitby you may have the misfortune to be caught by Daphne Milne Dracula country, graveyard seeded with teeth and none of them sprouting. Alice and Bessie swinging on the cusp of the moon. Me watching Tat the Cat knitting…
Windows
Windows by Ranjabali Chaudhuri I love shop windows. Their colours, jewels, and mannequins sing the dulcet promise of possibility. They let me be anyone. Superimposed upon the clothes on display, my reflection can be a soldier in a red and…
Foundering
Foundering by Matthew Richardson It’s only when Ma and Pa wake me that I realise the cries weren’t in my dreams. I’m told to get dressed quickly. Truth be told there’s not much to put on – a shirt and…
Bird Sounds
Bird Sounds by Lilly Posnett They were kept there for a while. We lived nearby. The noise was constant. The smell, unbearable. On the third day, we had to close the windows and sweat in the July apartment. I was…