FROG LEG by Diana Anaya
Frogs are thought to have a simplified version of our anatomy, which makes them all the more reasonable subjects for high school dissections.
AN OPEN WOUND by Jasmyn Huff
What’s it like to die? To stop being. Gone in a moment, carried away on the wind. Does it hurt?
A CORBEAU BY ANY OTHER NAME by Camille U. Adams
How a mother could be so? Why when she’s in the same room with me I feel swallowed up by a heavy coat pulling me down?
ALL THE BEES IN CALIFORNIA ARE DEAD by Piper Gourley
I’m in California now, where bees die in the light. Where everybody dies first, then lives forever.
SEX, OR by Brett Milam
Unbeknownst to you, you were in a ménage à trois with me and depression and I was only able to pleasure one of you.
OMENS ASIDE, I KENNED IT WOULDN’T LAST by Gabriela Denise Frank
The chugging train slowed, then sighed to a halt over the England-Scotland border, the so-called station a mere strip of platform engulfed in endless verdant meadow dotted with clots of creamy sheep.
POLAROIDS by Mila Jaroniec and Cory Bennet
Why waste energy saying you know what I mean in five separate words when you can smush them together and let them fall off the tongue like your drunk ass down the stairs after several bottles of MD 20/20?
COUNTDOWN TO MOONLIT ROSES by Ange Yeung
I am lost in a sky of turbulence and haze—and to be lost is to never be home. Today is the first day of the year; it is also the first year you are not around.
THE KEYS TO IGNITION by G. R. Bilodeau
I gripped a dirty pint. Sometimes I hold a glass and feel the urge to grip it till it breaks. This was one of those times.
CRUSH by Kelsi Lindus
On the white sand, I stand with a man who doesn’t love me and we watch a bald eagle–big as a boy–bent over something bloody.