Poetry
Bandits of Dream City
by Sharang Biswas in Issue Nineteen, March 2025
In my dreams, we’re burglars
Our fingers ooze through castle walls of toffee and cloud
like a warmed spoon through the toffee-walnut ice-cream I churned on your birthday
Our breath steals between the gaps in a snake-streusel door
like the entire rhubarb-streusel pie you snuck into that terrifying French documentary
We dodge cardamom-bullets screaming out of paneer-dragon mouths
like the recipe my mother frothed out over the phone, too pungent for your sister
We whisper past treasures of diamond-sugar and pearl-milk
like—
Yes, Chef
by Jake Price in Issue Eighteen, November 2024
My life fits inside a sentence.
There aren’t any hours in any days
that can’t be represented with a noun and non-fantastic
verb, and maybe an adjective thrown in. Maybe icy
or starving or blue or dilated.
My nights are orange.
This cheese grater in my hand has created enough orange
zest to deserve a life sentence
in the museum of me. The grand opening will be delayed because I’ll die late,
lying in my coffin dazed,
my families stares, the preacher stares, you stare: all icy,
even a cold reception is fantastic.
Ars Poetica
by Jenna Hanchey in Issue Eighteen, November 2024
You’ve written your last words; you will not speak them
His spell would not let you, anyway
Not now; after years of wielding tiny pins—
too small for dancing angels—
he ruptures your vocal cords, tearing (through)
Only a croak escaping
You offer this croak to the sea witch; you’ve nothing else to barter
You’d given it all to him. Anyway.
Not now, but before, your voice was mesmerizing—
too large for one body to contain—
she shakes her heavy head, tearing (up)
Salty lips finding yours
You’d expected an... Continue →
After doing assignments for an hour with my son on WhatsApp
by Clara Burghelea in Issue Eighteen, November 2024
Here is a bed of downy clouds on demand, yet free to us all,
next, a mouthful of sunlight to measure this blossom of late
November, cornflowers, a pretty pop of blue at the corner
of this end of Roundrock Road, the way to elicit care is color,
lavish from every lawn on both sides of the street, the stillness
of dew clutched inside the sweet alyssum ground cover by the door
unmatched for ease of care said the pretty label at Walmart,
to be true, I had misread it and thought it spelled seek asylum,
felt the urge to put my nose into... Continue →
After You, the Stars Went Blind
by Adesiyan Oluwapelumi in Issue Eighteen, November 2024
chasm: i fall knee-deep into the shallows.
after you, the stars shut their eyes—
the dark earth like algae flourished inside me.
my body: haystack in a farmhouse—
a dark animal chewing away silently.
lilith: you who sings a thousand death songs—
i haul the wind like an harp & it seizures my breath.
... Continue →
Somewhere in Nigeria
by AbdulBasit Oluwanishola in Issue Seventeen, September 2024
Somewhere in Nigeria: in Lokoja, Lagos,
Somewhere in Abia, Adamawa, Anambra,
some houses have become dams.
People have become Hagfish.
Roads have turned to rivers.
Cyborgs are yet to learn how to
become fish & swim. Somewhere
in Kwara, water has –once again–
blew another bright flame of
some families into oblivion.
Somewhere, a boy was seeking a cup of water. He was given an ocean.
Question:-
what is the gravity of the boy &
... Continue →
Meat, Bone, and Soul
by Beth Cato in Issue Seventeen, September 2024
no
I will not
be your princess
no matter how you layer me
in silks and pearls
no matter the finery of your tailors
these gowns will never fit
this strange body that binds my soul
by dark magic and obstinance
you've skinned me of scales
split my tail into legs
reminded me repeatedly
that because of you
I can never again
survive the stormy brine
yet the sea calls me
its brutal roar preferable
to your dulcet tones
you think to lock
me in the corsets
Epitaph of a World on Fire: An Abecedarian
by Jessica Peter in Issue Seventeen, September 2024
And if you remember just one thing,
Babe, remember this: there once were
Corals here. Living things in vibrant hues beneath our waters, not these
Dead husks fully slaughtered by the will of
Ego-driven billionaires chasing profit over people,
Fame over freedom to breathe, a
Globe on fire over basic fucking decency.
How, in this failed state, can I bear to share my own story? You see
I tried, I did. We tried, we really did. It’s
Just so goddamned hard to make a dent with
Kings and kingmakers chasing glory,
Leaving the... Continue →
Category 4
by West Ambrose in Issue Seventeen, September 2024
It’s alright, I confess. The frosted echoes bluegold
melts
Black Bile
by Chinedu Gospel in Issue Seventeen, September 2024
the women |
they raise their voices the way
fire raises smoke & the rain answers
with a flood
the first rule |
the first rule is to stay
afloat until you become something like
a boat but
the men |
they ran
& the water gave them new homes &
new gods & new languages etched on
their tongues & a new... Continue →