I tried to answer my first wifein truth(e)that, yes, she is selfishand that this is good:Less wear, Few wounds, No rind where ought be ‘life.’But she gnashed and wailed,her Protestant iceberg atremble,and I curled back my wordswith the bad faith of the midway lover. We’d matched tattoos—still do, I’d think:Black ink ampersands,near or on our hands.Hers: a…
Category: Another World Within
“I Want to be Soft” and Other Poems
I want to be soft around the edges Blue skies filled with coffee lady bugs dancing in my heart stomach full of butterflies Swirling around my lungs made of paper Soft Soft Soft like the words whispered into the night ‘I dont wanna be made of stone’ Begging the gods Praying to the moon the…
To the Shopkeeper on the Corner in East Jerusalem
The author of this essay requested that their name be withheld.–ed From the first day I moved into the neighborhood until the day I left in a hurry, I went to your shop. Your brother was always the only one there, serving the neighborhood kids who would come with their mother’s money clutched tightly in…
Israel: Why it’s Hard to Write About
It’s taken me a lot of time to build up to writing this. And if I had to give a single reason, it’s because I was taught to think a certain way. That Israel is a shining democracy among (Arab, Muslim, nonwhite) dictatorships. That Israel makes every effort to minimize civilian casualties while “the other…
Tending at the Crossroad
For Halloween night, please enjoy a bit of fun with us as regular contributor Eve Brackenbury shares a poem based on the popular TV show Supernatural. As you’ll see, the poem doesn’t require a working knowledge of the show. Though a willingness to sell your soul at the crossroad in order to obtain your heart’s…
Losing your Grip
The coffee cup shattered on the kitchen tiles, shards exploding to all corners of the room. The thick black liquid turned amber on the sand-coloured floor, an elegant splat that moulded itself into something like a crescent moon. Alastair stood there for a moment, bemused. This had never happened before. Oh he had knocked a…
The Lore of Rich Kid Drugs
Reggie declared that rich kids like opiates from their parents’ medicine cabinets and buy Adderall from the back pocket of another private school kid and snort coke off of smooth knuckles. Nobody gets arrested; they get sent to rehab. “Weed,” Reggie proclaimed, standing on the break room couch for his lecture’s finale, “Is whattells these…
Moved
Delilah’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking. It frustrated her. As a Surveyor at the Glass Park, she was meant to look firm. Slightly intimidating. Most of the time, the park was closed off to the public. Countless bottles laid out across the land. Daffodils stood inside; fragile, but incredibly important. On the first day of spring,…
Against Book Bans: Mirrors and Windows
Mirrors. Windows. Lonely. Alone. Cover the mirror. Your place is clear. Close a window. So much you won’t know. Mirrors. Windows. A child needs both. Rudine Sims Bishop, the mother of multicultural children’s literature was the first to explain that, in order to get a balanced view of the world every child needs mirrors and…
SAT Students and Boundaries
One of the perils of opening our magazine up to any submission is that you occasionally get a submission like this. The author requested we withhold their name to protect their identity and the identity of their SAT students. Enjoy! -Ed. SAT Students, Boundaries, Humours You have to know your students, and you have to…