October 2017

Between the Cities of the Living and the Dead

Scott Atkinson

The boy was perhaps twelve—yes, twelve—and up to no good.  She could tell these things. He had a way of walking, an unperfected swagger he was still trying on like a pair of new and uncomfortable shoes.

Lullaby with Aftereffects

Marielle Prince

What window would be so kind / as this white wall, where soft focus // is a down pillow, where no wet eye reflects 

The Time Being

Marielle Prince

You know him. He is the small man / hanging around the periphery. / He has straight white teeth / and a smile for you 


Nate Waggoner

Each morning Paula feels like dinosaur bones. You know how they’re not really bones, but sediment or silt or something that’s filled in the spaces where the bones used to be? She feels like dirt in the shape of an organism, embedded in earth. She feels like bone-shaped sediment if bone-shaped sediment could also be having a mild panic attack.