Volume 15, Issue 6: April
Volume 15, Issue 6: April
Metamorphosis
Later, I told Sylvia that I didn’t want to play with Arnau anymore. I said that we needed to focus on the package we were presenting to the audience. He wasn’t good enough, I claimed. She drained her drool from the trumpet and said, “No te vendas.” She didn’t want me to bring my Americanness, or wherever I was meant to claim, to our group. We would not sell ourselves.
Writing in the Present: An Interview with Alexandria Peary
It’s like this: it’s a call and response. I’m really, literally, sending a question to my unconscious, and I’m waiting to see what comes back.
Having a Baby at 20
I love cute small things and my baby
would be so cute imagine
its eyes so big so bright its happy
kicking legs its pink bud of mouth
Everything Might Just Happen
Ramon was the golden child of a musical Catalan family. He’d been handed a trumpet at age five and told, “This is your future.”
ALWAYS SOMETHING FALLING
Maybe spirits? The lake
is a mirror, then it isn’t. Only
the memory of it.
Accessibility (Dis)services at AWP
Without being truly inclusive, how can we, as a field of professionals, claim to promote and see all voices, all perspectives, all experiences?
Fragments of the Letter I Keep Tearing Up
“Gwen, I feel like a man’s idea of a hysterical woman. I feel like a stopped clock rewound to the wrong time. There’s this girl; I feel like I know her from somewhere.”
The Tears of Agnes
I severed the tranquility of the silent forest with my laughter. It was a warning to the beast, I told myself.
A Letter from the Editor
Our February collection features a range of wonderful pieces from a talented group of contributors. Despite the diversity in genre and form, it’s impossible to ignore the emphasis on human connection, exploring what it means to face loneliness. Through these stories, we are launched from earth into space and dragged back down again. After our travels, we arrive back in a place that feels the same, yet changed.
The Genealogist Catalogues Every Living Hand
The baby of me going out like a light—
sisters’ hands caught mid-gesture
in sharp flight between words
Dead Space, All By Yourself
“I know you’ve got to ask it,” he said, interrupting her. Again, he felt like his mouth was moving without his control. He hadn’t talked this openly in years.
High Point
You can choose a place. If you do, it will love you and not stop loving you even if you leave. I am telling you this is possible.
A Letter from the Editor
Here today, we're pleased to present to you these captivating, curious, and vividly moving works by Leath Tonino, Joel Gordon, Sarah Lilius, Michelle Disler, Michael Moreth, and Judith Skillman. Settle in with your blankets and a mug of tea for some winter reading as the cold rolls in, and we hope you enjoy this Issue's collection.
Postcard from Immensity
“Sophia's aunt is dying and dreaming of visiting the Grand Canyon, dying and dreaming at once. A person is big this way, as is a moment. A chest is big. A postcard is big. A 50-cent stamp with the strength to lift immensity and carry it to Portland, Oregon is incomprehensible. The math is strange indeed.”
Side Effects Include Dehydration
Depression is a stranger
handing her their wedding bouquet.
Confusion blooms outside the heavy church
where she claims the daisies.
Write Every* Day
Does that mean I’m a subpar writer? I don’t think so. I think it’s simply a result of how my brain works. As with many neurodivergent folks, I find it difficult to stick to a strict routine and work every single day. I need some variation and time to recharge.
Lady Flincher and the Mangoes
She bent down and
put mangoes in her
pockets, moved toward
the canal. The geese were screaming.