I love you, not in the romantic sense, I don’t want to date you. I just love you in the way that I get tingles in my chest when I see you and laugh with you. The way I love you is a nervous kind of love, a cute little laugh over a steamed cup…
Month: April 2018
Winning Poem by Kim Dhillon with Author Interview
To The Woman Crying in the Airport Lounge (After Kim Addonizio) It will get easier that baby kicking you on the inside will come out through your own strength on the backs of grandmothers and shoulders of giants into hands of midwives and it will fight sleep wean off your breast or off a bottle…
Book Review – The Great Alone
Some books are written for relaxing beach trips, when you don’t want to think to hard about anything and just want a fun story to take up a little space in your brain in between cocktails and afternoon naps. The Great Alone is not one of those books. Rather, it is a long, emotional haul…
The Little Things – Microwork
The Dangers of Spirituality I set my hair on fire this morning. Black flakes, oddly geometric, peppering the floor, my first priority was to clean them all up, pressing down on each one with my pointer finger, only then did I remember that my hair might still be on fire, a halo, a crown Olivia…
A Word from the Editor
Welcome to Issue 8.1! We are so excited to announce the winner of our first Poetry Contest! Kim Dhillon blew us away with her poem”To The Woman Crying in the Airport Lounge (After Kim Addonizio).” I know you’re anxious to read the winning poem, and we will be delighted to share it with you this…
Issue 8.1 – Nonfiction
On the way home from lunch one day my husband and I saw a sign for Gaglione. We had just moved to Italy and had nothing better to do on such a beautiful summer’s day, so we followed the left tine of the forked road to see what kind of hamlet gets a name like…
Issue 8.1 – Fiction
When it was obvious that he wasn’t coming, Francine put the angel hair and the Texas toast under foil and got moving. This was her day off and she had things to do and she wouldn’t be caught dead not doing them on account of some prick. She turned on Keeping Up with the Kardashians…
Issue 8.1 – Poetry
I ate men, one after the other, licking my fingers as I finished each one. I was feeding myself, filling up cold, star-less nights, taking their fire and then wiping it away, tossing the leftovers in the trash. But men are not good nutrition. My bones shrank and hollowed,…
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