Month: May 2025

Rotted

MERRICK LAWSON
Drew sits in a forest. There was a time that they were here before, but that is gone and it is impossible for them to recollect it. Recollect — re-collect — collected on their phone; they scroll through their photos until they prove that they were here five months ago, that they wore their flannel-lined jeans that may have been stained, or maybe not.
…Continue Reading Rotted

Omphalos

LUCHIK BELAU-LORBERG
The flavors, one after another: you, mouthing off in tongues; then breakfast for lunch and vice versa, meaning maple all around; slicked salt beneath my boots; a stretch of teething road with chalkboard clouds; the cashier and her disinterested brows, bad coffee at the cinema beside a lady smiling at a map and her breath is like eucalyptus. The rain goes on, though only…Continue Reading Omphalos

Evergreen: The Voices That Do Not Wilt

green plants in background

SOFIA AHMED SEID

It was a peaceful morn at the foot of the mountains. The sun looked coyly radiant, slowly rising from behind the hill. I must have been sitting on the cement steps because my derriere was going numb from the cold despite the warm embrace of the morning, filled with the chirping of birds and the delicate ringing of tiny bells at the fascia of the church—bells that danced with the gentlest rustling of the wind….Continue Reading Evergreen: The Voices That Do Not Wilt

Forever Green

RIS PAULINO
I scale the cracked shingles, the roof warm beneath my palms, / each grip a reminder that not all heights can be measured in feet. / The sun slips sideways, brushing against the window panes, / and I stand there, taller than the house that never grew with me. / I look off toward the sunset, / and see a treeline—…Continue Reading Forever Green

Untitled

GABRIELA WEAVER
We hadn’t spoken a word – well, discernable word – for an hour. My fingertips filled the void of silence, grazing your skin, circling your collarbones. I rested in the crook of your neck, forehead pressed to your cheek. My eyes followed the lines I drew on your skin. I lifted my chin to trail kisses up your neck before meeting your gaze with my own. …Continue Reading Untitled

Snapshots of Dust

BRADY KIM
I visited my father’s house last week.  I straightened the picture frames on his nightstand, the glass caked with so much grime and filth that you couldn’t even make out the picture.  I swept the dust from the lonely halls, the wallpaper cracking and peeling at the top so it cast a shadow across the wall when you turned on the buzzing yellowish lights….Continue Reading Snapshots of Dust

Wash

ODESSA IKELS
Claire crouched in the cool wet sand, marveling at how the topwater surrounded the sides of her feet, small sandals abandoned behind her. The ocean roared in her left ear, cliffs invading her peripheral vision as she examined the place where the water meets the shore….Continue Reading Wash