Issue 16.3 – Nonfiction

It’s football season again. I love football. Born and raised. Something about how the air inside a stadium suspends everyone’s voices while the quarterback, the quintessential warrior, calls out those mysterious numbers just before the ball is snapped along the line of scrimmage. “Twenty-four! Forty-eight! Sixty-one. Hut!” A prophecy from Zeus himself, his baritone voice…

Issue 16.3 – Fiction

There’s change in my pocket. It jangles while I walk heavy against my leg. The dog is at home; too yappy to walk with me this morning. I left the chaos of the house behind. I needed this walk. Calm. Soothing. Quiet. I’ll never tire of these views. The smell of the sea. The salt…

Issue 16.3 – Poetry

  To the men who do not catcall me from alleyway caves as I walk home from my ten hour shift alone. To the men who tell me I work harder than anyone they’ve seen. Not “harder than any man,” not “for a woman, your work is pristine.” To the men who give me a…

Issue 16.2 – Fiction

Tic, tic, tic. Like fireworks. Like a shower of hail on a rooftop. Like fingernails parading on glass. Like the sound of tires on gravel. The boy was almost soothed by the sound as his eyelashes flickered in the darkness. “Shh,” his mother gently assuaged. Her hands were cool on his forehead. He turned on…

Issue 16.2 – Poetry

The Winter  Memories of him Are always his truck With frost growing on the windows Like a living creature Waiting for your vehicles to warm up After jazz rehearsal. Any chance to spend time together Is time well spent. Breathing into your mittens Teeth chattering, toes numb An average Alberta winter night -40 at 9:30…

Issue 16.1 – Fiction

I was there the summer Birdie disappeared. It was 1979 and incredibly hot. I remember how the pavement sizzled from baking in the sun and how the grass became crusty and brown. Betsy, the owner of the local diner, used to give us free ice cream that would melt as we ventured into the outdoor…

Issue 16.1 – Poetry

The first man and the first woman stood newly made   in a beautiful garden with trees of fruit and fire.   Yet their open hands reached first for one another.   Love, a mountain springing up between them two tectonic plates shifting together   thrust so tightly upward it felt like they were one…