Dates are important to doctors. Timelines, records, charts, files. Every time I go to a hospital appointment, all my information is there waiting for me, which is pretty much one of the only reliable things I’ve experienced in a hospital. Last time, the receptionist was searching through her pile of files for mine, only to…
Category: Issue 8
Issue 8.5 – Fiction
I have to cancel. I have to. He’ll hate me, but I can live with that. Maybe. I mean, what kind of bitch cancels a coffee date? Me, apparently. He’s so nice though, so sweet and kind and honest. Honest. So I should be honest too, right? I could go and then tell him. When…
Issue 8.5 – Poetry
February is a dark heresy. Bare branch alters and dull shell-gray cathedral sky. Everything so hard and tired and I wonder if we will ever know green again. I chew on prayer seeds, hoping they taste of tree bud and April. I wonder if this is what it is to search for God. Alexis-Rueal is…
Issue 8.4 – Nonfiction
THE NEXT MORNING: 08:17 The light filtering through the living room window is weak and diffuse. It’s a familiar light, in an unfamiliar window. I watch dust motes float through the beams for a moment before I even think to wonder where I am. Because those aren’t my dust motes. And this isn’t my…
Issue 8.4 – Fiction
Last night I dreamed I went to Infinity again. I was wearing a long, blue dress adorned with glitter, and drinking a martini from a coned glass. You were wearing a grey dress, and sipping cider. How we met was a cliché, but then again, everything here is a cliché, isn’t it? Our eyes met…
Issue 8.4 – Poetry
Apparently tiger sharks eat license plates and rubber tires. Anything you put in front of them according to Shark Week. Once one bit a woman in half in Hawaii, but it was her fault for swimming at dawn. They are predators, after all. She was an athletic swimmer, a Maui native. She knew…
Issue 8.3 – Nonfiction
Eleven days til Christmas and I feel like a tightrope walker, perched on the rope of duty, putting one foot in front of the other in an effort to make it through the season without falling. It would be so easy to just give up and drop. But I keep my toes wrapped tightly to…
Issue 8.3 – Fiction
M.I.S.T.R.E.S.S. PHYSICAL DATA LOG 9:30 a.m. December 18th, 2247 Reboot. Reboot. My systems race trying to unscramble the received signals. This has never happened before. I am mathematically perfect; there is no room for error within my code. I am adaptable to any situation presented to me. Static buzzes behind my eyes and I lose…
Issue 8.3 – Poetry
Self-will doesn’t run riot it crawls on naked belly ignores primal ooze never bathes and is always convinced that love is only a fix away. I crawl amid constant cravings lose desire to feel real accept death in chemical form still a part of me snubs Thanatos still a part of me…
Issue 8.2 – Nonfiction
Inside the warm car we sit and wait, parked in front of my son’s elementary school, for the first bell to ring. Lily, my beautiful daughter, speaks from her seat in the back, describing her class science project, how they will try to design and build a house that the teacher can’t blow down with…
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