Poetry
Beneath the Flames
by Oyeleye Mahmoodah Temitope in Issue Five, July 2022
The rain basks in humid slumber, whilst grandma’s roses wilt—
Hearth of earth wallows in defeat
and I stay lost and bare—
My strength died beneath the scorching siege
and my fate wanders—
I pray the night for relief.
Unearthen
by Carly Racklin in Issue Four, May 2022
First published in Bird’s Thumb, October 2016
I.
Last summer I buried a body under the apple tree
and every now and then I see the ghost plucking weeds
and picking seeds from his teeth.
He spits them at my window at... Continue →
Tall Tales
by F. J. Bergmann in Issue Four, May 2022
Summer came. Each tree
On my street had its own
Scheherazade. My nights
Were a part of their wild
Storytelling.
Charles Simic, “The White Room”
Every Light a Threshold
by Melissa Ridley Elmes in Issue Four, May 2022
Through the blinds of my ground-level apartment
I see the flash of red taillights; someone’s car
backing into a parking space, sending forth a
sudden claret flare like aliens landing in the night.
Through the blinds, the blinding mid-morning sun
burns my... Continue →
Behemoth
by Julie Allyn Johnson in Issue Four, May 2022
Watch as I tend
these ice-blue flames,
poking and prodding
every faltering gash.
Lean in as I expatriate the spark
and sizzle
of kindred combatants.
My hell-mouth
reeks
of animus.
Distillation by fire,
the... Continue →
A Wreckful Planting of Small Pockets of Thirst
by Nnadi Samuel in Issue Four, May 2022
First published in Uncanny Magazine, March 2022
I run out of ways to keep you urgent in my mouth,
stomach your shouting relic.
so, when grief comes for an unburial, unearthing you into the forgotten,
I stuff you under my... Continue →
sestina for the summer solstice
by Claire McNerney in Issue Three, March 2022
dot the j and cross the seven.
upcoming in neon, in oppressive heat
we dream with night-opened windows.
too-small frogs can’t eat the mosquitos,
preparing the party, the cake is neat
but in this rotting mansion we’re still far from heaven.
the kid... Continue →
The Nymphs Are Migrating
by Madalena Daleziou in Issue Three, March 2022
In the small hours, under the wolf light
my best friend throws peanuts
at my window. It is the nymphs.
They are migrating.
The scorched mosaic
of dirt moans under my feet.
The woods are dressed in red
but not the red they should be.
And it dries and dries
by Marisca Pichette in Issue Three, March 2022
In my mind a butterfly catches pneumonia:
Flap flap the world is changed.
There’s a second life but not a first,
there’s you and no there’s just me—
no we no us just just just
iron and
lilies and
coffin nails.
All I want to see... Continue →
Misconceptions Regarding the Moon
by Avra Margariti in Issue Two, January 2022
The moon is a ghost, a god.
She is a white rabbit of silver
Eyes and whiskers.
He is an ancient demon, a teething child.
There is a person in the moon
And they’re crying crater tears.
To climb to the moon you must build
A ladder of night-bleached... Continue →