In addition to the heavy casket, there’s the crunch of weak ankles carrying it. The orange smeared on my hands is not from marigolds but from bug repellent layered on my exposed body. I’m not a fan of distraction ...
In the Meadow by Mercedes Rodriguez
Poetry
I took Barb over to Big Sky a few months back. The time had come to either figure it out or put it to rest between us. We did the whole thing—the skiing and snowshoeing. We got drunk and ate well: beef steaks and elk ...
I’m Still Here by Corey Millard
Fiction
The Fault by Marcela Sulak
Review by Brandel France de Bravo
Black Lawrence Press
July 2024
ISBN: 978-1-62557-076-5
Pages: 90
Marcela Sulak’s The Fault invites us into a doubled world: the very real and ...
The Fault by Marcela Sulak Review by Brandel France de Bravo
Book Reviews
Three days a week, David sat at Ms. Bowen’s kitchen table and repeated back, say, sun, soup, sip, sick, said, sail. When he did well, she rewarded him with a chocolate from the freezer, hard and tasteless. When ...
Say, Sun, Soup by Michael Stewart
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
2020
The first fall of my empty nest, a white-hot aloneness. Covid-19 raging, and no vaccine against it. No café, no colleagues, no classes except on my laptop.
And suddenly it’s raining ash. Stay inside, seal ...
Fire Song by Samina Najmi
LAR Online, Nonfiction
No one believes I could be so wise. It’s not that difficult because, like all my kind, I can smell situations. A dog’s responsibility is to mind the house and its owner, to sniff and stay alert, and to be quick on ...
Watermelon by Nasim Vahabi Translated by Parisa Saranj
Translations
So little of my work gives you joy.My vocab so little. The moon cares about so little.From you I’ve heard so little. The window unit drips.So little love you gave to the azaleas that I grew.When I write, I think so ...
Serenade by Weijia Pan
LAR Online, Poetry
The first time I visited, I was only seven years old. It was beautiful, of course, and not just because, in memory, it is preserved in the amber glow of the hottest, dryest summer of all time. It was beautiful ...
Sand by Ben Tufnell
Fiction
they talk of your nervesthey prescribe country air to tame your ghostsbut without voiceabove allwithout voiceI cradle you~we know nowshe never boardedthe ferryshe’s dead it’s clearbecause listento the roarthe roar ...
Poems by Tania Langlais Translated by Jessica Cuello
Translations
