After Jennifer S. Cheng 1: the sea captured in a glass 2: a homophone for having enough for leftovers, a synonym for abundance 3: the fish, who have already forgotten you. It’s not personal 4: where memory fails, there’s still imagining 5: you. Not as an ocean but outside 6: glass and/or acrylic
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* Voltage-gated pathways are depolarizedand pore-forming membrane proteinsallow calcium influx from adjacent solutions. (Cell insides become saturated) Excitation is mossy fiber runningsouthbound head-stems and paired shootsthrough once-relaxed tissue. * You’ve established rules,preventative
What separates us from our lives / is a see-through thing. /
Winner of the Sonora Review Issue 77 Fiction Contest, selected by Rebecca
My reptile mother birthed a reptile daughter – cold-blooded, always chasing sunlight. The weather turns a screw in a fractured femur, and wrenches me rheumatic with the foresight of
Christmas, blue lights refract through the wetwindshield. Us, in the backseat,while my brother drives through the richestneighborhood in Orange County. It’s tradition.From the passenger, my sister says,Who’s the white girl?I don’t know
Bless the man who dismounted an elliptical just as a song blaring from a far room of the gym ended.His timing was perfect, to know when he poked his sweaty head
— After William, William, and William; Robert, Richard, Sam, and Tom In the absence of left hands and left breastsand right eyes and toes and teeth—like gathering more data, adding salt,pulling all
My knees pop and crackle like a fireplace as I kneel at her feet on the carpeted floor. I flinch—my body suddenly feels too crooked, too misshapen to be here.She smiles like redemption,
A Note on Nakedness: In my writing, bodies bend and fold; hands encircle hips, hold onto sheets; mouths make music or other arrhythmic sounds. Lovers, and those without love, lay and
Rose teaches us how to stomp!
Winner 2024 EROTIC Contest: Poetry On Miranda’s poem, judge Stephanie Cawley writes: “In the middle of ‘The Monster is God,’ the poet writes, ‘yes — no,’ the dash a stark bridge where
In 6th grade, a small group of boys started carrying around little, red laser beams on keyless keyrings. They were small enough to fit in the palm of the boys’ hands.
“Where’s the other instructor, the boy?” Renee said. It was day one of Women’s Wellness Camp, which Renee had embarked upon in hopes of having a young