Ocean Vuong
Home Wrecker
And this is how we danced: our mothers’ white dresses spilling from our feet, late August
turning our hands dark red. And…
Profile Type: Emerging Poets Residency
Montana Ray
Montana Ray is a writer and translator in New York City. She holds an MFA in poetry and translation and a PhD in comparative…
Mahogany L. Browne
Redbone Dances
If you ain’t never watched your parents kiss ain’t neva have them teach you ‘bout the way the lips will to bend and curve against…Jessica Rae Elsaesser
Good Luck
The rabbits foot hooked to her key chain, never seemed to be a severed part, from something born to darting, burrows, coupling and redoubling…
Elsbeth Pancrazi
The hologram in the goggles
was calling me baby One of us had put away the murphy bed already I saw myself try to explain my…
Andrew Seguin
THE LESSER SYSTEMS
On this day when the clocks follow the concentric tempo of a top and the verb to be has worn off its costume so…Elizabeth Zuba
TOY GOAT YOU ARE WELCOME
Toy goat, you are welcome here. Your nimble ankles. Your short lifted tail making a tail-angel in the living room air…
Amber Atiya
the fierce bums of doo-wop
chords soaked in gin jam a crowd as liver-spotted tourists muscle their way in & outta shake shack a rodeo of…
Idrissa Simmonds
DeePees
We would shriek the word then run, girls in sneakers and sneering mouths cutting heels against asphalt, tongues anxious to taste brokenness.
I…
Jaime Shearn Coan
“that lonesome vibration so familiar to young boys” – Vladimir Nabokov, Speak, Memory
Some of us grew up with mothers floating on water beds in…