re- pair me with you again even though we have left pieces of us in our wake and each time we glue us back together the edges are askew But we can fill the gaps with who we have become Perhaps we will still fit together imperfectly Living in Singapore, India-born Uma Venkatraman is a journalist with…
Issue 14.5 – Fiction
Their father was a photographer who took pictures of Cuba, mostly cars. Blue Chevrolets against backdrops of scarred yet colorfully painted apartment buildings. TIME magazine published several of them in the early eighties and the paycheck was substantial enough to afford his getaway. He left them in the middle of the night. Sarah and her…
Issue 14.5 – Poetry
I went to the spot —stood there— trying to remember why I vowed never to return. It had been so dark in my memory, musty and in my lungs like pneumonia. I never thought the room would be sweet tasting ever again. But standing there, where it happened, I knew it wasn’t the…
Serial – Little River: Vol 2 – Ch 14
Mary stood at the kitchen sink, rinsing her coffee cup, when she heard someone yelling outside. Never one to shy away from her neighbors’ antics, she pulled open the kitchen door a crack, expecting to hear the latest episode of the Lutrell’s marital woes. Instead, she heard her young neighbor calling, “Taylor, come back here!”…
Microwork – Sirens
sirens soaked in their presence, their collective irrationality – dripping soft, flowing, allured. Grace Alice Evans is an emerging poet based in Staffordshire, UK. She is currently studying a BA (Hons) in English and Creative Writing at Staffordshire University, and have been previously published in Inside the Bell Jar, the HCE Review, ENCLAVE, and the…
Issue 14.4 – Nonfiction
While waiting in the car line to pick up my daughters from school on Friday, an idea pops into my head: I will treat them to after-school cookies from the nearby bakery. I debate with myself about this thought, because I’m in a cycle of frugality, feeling like I contribute little, only consume, being the…
Issue 14.4 – Fiction
Taylor plopped down next to me on the crunchy grass the Friday before Halloween. None of this would have happened, had I woken up early enough to ride my bike. She started chatting immediately, apparently not noticing my look of confusion or the ear-buds jammed into my head, my signal to the rest of the…
Issue 14.4 – Poetry
I slip my hand between your thumb & pointer finger, you squeeze it gently, stare to the right where the painting you like best hangs. This isn’t a fight. This is an I love you. I love you & it pains me to be so exposed. All my soft, important parts visible to you alone….
Serial – Little River: Vol 2 – Ch 13
Crocket’s cold nose nudged his master’s hand. The dog always sensed when Josiah was unhappy. “What is it boy?” Josiah moved his hand from the gearshift of the truck to the dog’s head, scratching behind his ears. Country music from the radio grated at his nerves, so he turned it off. Everything got on his…
Microwork – New Mexican Immortality
New Mexican Immortality On the last night I saw you, you reminded me: “The offer does not expire.” Soon I will be headed to New Mexico Reminded of your mortal expiration, and the immortal boundaries of love. Allie Blum is an emerging writer from Conshohocken, PA who currently and proudly resides in New Orleans,…
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