by Samuel Simas  You took me to the end of a dock where furled sails and hawsers clinked nautical concertos on metal. Between beats you told me you were leaving, and I watched you scratch your brown beard in the sunlight, massaging the words like lather around your mouth.  The gulls stopped screaming, and I heard your heart thump behind the cloud of your breath.  Boats undulated on the water, and I kneaded the tendrils of muscles in my arm, shifting my weight from right foot to left. You kicked the dock’s faded planks until splinters levigated and the wind … Continue reading Hawsers


by Alexandra Gilwit My eyes were dry, but only because I was dehydrated. I wanted so badly to cry. It had been several hours since the sun had fallen behind the large grouping of trees in the distance, opening the world up to the space out beyond our atmosphere. I thought of my sister as I traced out the imaginary lines of the constellations. Tonight was especially clear, with the trail of the Milky Way snaking across the edge of Earth in a ribbon of star and cosmic dust. This view was the only thing that hadn’t changed in the … Continue reading Supernova

Against the Dying

by Brandon Ketchum She was a dark and stormy Night.  The young Night unleashed lightning curses at the stars, who dared spy upon her misery.  Her voice thundered vitriol at the distant planets.  Tears of anger bled from her countenance, flooding her subjects below.  Night refused to relent her anger, tempestuous indignity cloaking her fear.  She must soon pass into oblivion, but the passing must be fought. Dusk had delivered Night unto this place, the wondrous realm below their father Heaven.  Her older sister had reached into a void Night could not then fathom, pulled her gently into the world, … Continue reading Against the Dying


by Audrey El-Osta Along Chapel St I endure many encounters of young ladies well-read in Greer, ignorant of hooks, who spy my features and ask me point blank; Oh my god, how do you grow your eyebrows so thick? I cannot help but reply in questioned truth: How do you get your eyes so blue? These young ladies well Presentable, educated by Methodists at the finest of Academies, use feminism as a codeword to pick and choose, mix and match pieces of a culture, a life, like a jigsaw that is not theirs So long as it fits into a … Continue reading Theft

L’eau d’Issey

by Audrey El-Osta I smell it before I see it, when I kiss you on the cheek I know this scent, that I smelled on your chest, when you fed me by your breast. I know this scent, when you held me into the night, when I fought my body and my mind with all my might. Here it lies, in a moon-topped bottle on your dresser, an Odyssey of a perfume, and these days you tell me to wear it, try it, enjoy it. But it is not mine. Not yet. This smell of courage, of bravery, of decision … Continue reading L’eau d’Issey

The Other Girls

by Audrey El-Osta boys; they like to tell me I’m ‘not like other girls’ the words like confetti tumble out of their mouths and fall, into their palms. Wide-eyed children that they are, they open their hands to offer me this gift, gold and gleaming with a fresh, still-wet stamp of authenticity. boys; they expect you to just take this as a compliment with affection, grace and gratitude Oh my, do you really think so? ~ Thank you SO MUCH ~ THIS IS EVERYTHING I HAVE EVER WANTED ~ like I’m meant to be proud of not being like other … Continue reading The Other Girls

Credit Approved

by Stacey Margaret Jones “What did the doctor say?” Evan asked. He meant to sound casual, interested, but Ada knew him well enough to know he was anxious. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose then wished he hadn’t. She’d know that was a nervous gesture. “She said …” she stopped talking, and closed her eyes. Her 60-year-old preserved Violent Femmes t-shirt pulsed up and down with her breath. “Ada?” He stretched his arm across the table of the café, navigating their latte cups and her iPad, another gesture to her Hipster past. “Just tell me what … Continue reading Credit Approved

This Sorry Cycle

by Andria Wu The Q train rattled, hurtled through the inky night outside with its passengers, their minds all tangled in cyberspace, their eyes locked to the glowing screens of their iPods, iPhones, their iWhat-Have-Yous. In the dark we laid quietly, chests rising and falling together, fingers laced between us, empty pizza boxes littering the floor and blankets twisted around our legs. I would have stayed until forever, lying with you on that lumpy mattress with its frame broken and discarded in the least obtrusive corner of our crumbling flat. By the light of the moon, I traced circles against … Continue reading This Sorry Cycle