One way to measure the passage of time is to count the number of days since you last had sex. I’ve lost count. I only know it’s been more than three years for me and my husband—at least with each other. I know this because
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2023 Hattie Lockett Award Winner That which I call myself by any other namewould not remember my cheeks blistering,tripping to the front of the classroom whenMrs. Blonde and Blue tripped over my
KISS EVERYONE YOU CAN, FOR SURE — title from Alex Dimitrov’s “Sunset on 14th Street” — a twin cinema for the end of the line & those there with us It was
this essay was first published in THE DEAD ARE GODS (Melville House, 2023) I am not really a believer. I suppose the best way to describe myself would be atheist, but then
Abies lasiocarpa (bifolia) PINE FAMILY H 90’; D 18”. Tree with spire-shaped crown; Wait, matted shrub above tree line. Needles 1”,
Voronezh, Russia, 26 December 2018 When I got off the bus, my grandmother was there at the bus stop in her brown fur hat and long mink coat. She had owned them
so that I may invent my lungs AIMÉ CÉSAIRE 1. call this radicalized grief call this rigorous animality call this divine sorrow 2. in which there is no innovating loss in which
grace (ge) gilbert is a genderless poet, essayist, and collage worker based in Brooklyn. they are the author of 3 chapbooks, most recently the closeted diaries: essays (Porkbelly Press 2022), and NOTIFICATIONS
Ashley Dailey (she/her) is a writer and multimedia artist from Sargent, Georgia. She mostly writes about family and the cultural legacies of the American South. Her work has received support from the
The bell clangs. “I’m coming,” Henry Klackum calls from behind the backroom’s curtain. He sets down the amber bottle and the brush dewed with paste. On the wide, pine table sit twelve
What are your plans for Mother’s Day? Your question tightens my belly, squeezes my chest, constricts my throat. Your question leaves me gasping for words. Can you tell? When you ask it?