Inner Thief by Claire Polders Her husband folds his hand over hers, the one wielding the knife, and she stops slicing the breakfast bread. He says they have enough. Their eyes meet. The word “enough” sounds foreign to her, as…
In Dead Waters
In Dead Waters by Sarah Arantza Amador You think we stayed safe while you discovered the New World. The calendar marches forward but seasons come in cycles. Spring brought pirates at rosy dawn and we were under attack. We held our…
The Partitioning of Dreams
The Partitioning of Dreams by Susmita Bhattacharya She kept walking. Though her feet were raw and bleeding she kept walking. Though her tongue was swollen with thirst and her eyes crusted with tears, she kept walking. She lost a slipper…
Once Upon A Time In Philadelphia
Once Upon A Time In Philadelphia by Tia Ja’Nae Steel melts at 2500°F. Pigs made sure it’s hotter than that so our dark, meaty flesh roasts to a crisp at the police barbeque. Feels like I’m melting. Can’t barely…
How Monday was Made
How Monday was Made Guy Biederman It’s been a rough day. Ice Age in the morning, Vesuvius after lunch, and the loss of God’s favorite trattoria in Pompeii…. God rolls a joint, invents the match, and fires up around 5:00,…
Footsized
Footsized by Sarah Peploe Her breasts hurt with milk, still. They’re heavy. They leak sometimes, dark and obvious through her dress. She is behind with the washing. Her big girl who is nearly seven has been helping, and her sister…
Eleanor’s Last
Eleanor’s Last by Nuala O’Connor Thrice, after my birthing years were ended, a babe grew under my apron. Thrice I bled them out. ‘Chew birch bark, Eleanor,’ Mother said when I mentioned I was expectant on the first of them.…
Estelle
Estelle by Sheila Scott ‘It was on the clipboard at the last check.’ The commander pulled open a small drawer beneath the seats and rifled through its contents, sending odd items drifting into the air around them. A camera swung…
A Pot of Usefulness
A Pot of Usefulness by Jane Lomas ‘D’you fancy a cuppa, love?’ Bill calls from the back door. He takes the battered, tannin-patinated pot from the shelf: a leaving present from the lads. He’d worked at the steelworks since he…
Frau Roentgen’s Left Hand
Frau Roentgen’s Left Hand by Anita Goveas The thumb is indistinct, mid-sized and slender. If it were a tree limb, it would reveal I was fifty years old. It can’t sense I have twenty-eight years before I die of intestinal…