Amanda Gorman’s inaugural poem was wonderful
500 industry pros say don’t publish books by Trump staff
Foundry Lit founding partner taken to court
Obama memoir tops 2020 bestseller list
Writer Beware: 2020 in Review
Oh happy day: Trump finally concedes election
Recent Fiction

The Company of Shallow Holes, by Dino Parenti

One unremarkable March day, a man began puncturing random holes in his withered pasture with a post-hole digger.
Recent Poetry

Ecru, by Oak Morse

We were all one beautiful blend / of mama’s love. My brother, / the color of ecru, the other one / sepia, and me, ebony.
Recent CNF

Playground Doctrine, by Myna Chang

In the grit of a 1975 farm town, 9-year-old girls weigh about 60 pounds, even wicked little girls with bad women for mommas.
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Beer For Breakfast

Beer For Breakfast

by David Salner
The chrome-colored clouds / pushed the heat down, held in the car fumes, / the smell of the asphalt. Out on the patio, / I was ready for work
Maternity Leave

Maternity Leave

by Lauren Yates
There is something about traveling home that stops the blood. / My womb becomes a howling dog warning me of danger.
A Quintuple

A Quintuple

by Simon Perchik
Here, there, the way silence / tows you below the waterline / and though you are alone / you’re not sure where her name / is floating on the surface / or what’s left
My Own Struggle, Or An Exercise in Autofiction

My Own Struggle, Or An Exercise in Autofiction

by Isabella David McCaffrey
Autofiction is technically new, but now it’s been identified as a trend—like cat eyeliner then or wearing winter white. When the masses catch on, is it no longer cool?
River Mouth

River Mouth

by Heather Dobbins
She hasn’t taken off her swimsuit all summer. She is two hands / across her middle. I know that from throwing her: one foot / on my thigh, the other in my palm. Up, over, splash.
Proctoring

Proctoring

by Michael Lauchlan
Among students, I drink the same / coffee I drank at home an hour / ago—which is not some philosophical metaphor.
Down in the Station

Down in the Station

by Seth Sawyers
In the station a black woman with thick braids played the cello. I thought she was good, but I don’t know if she really was good, because what do I know about the cello?
My Mother Has a Cult Following

My Mother Has a Cult Following

by Siobhan Adcock
My mother has a cult following. It’s not as big as my father’s, because her band hasn’t sold as many records as his.
Sefeed

Sefeed

by Mathew Javidi
If I could go back, / I would have clutched my tongue, / not let it pirouette into / the soft, dim spotlight of / your living room
Monastery

Monastery

by Alicia Lai
Once I entered into a symbiotic relationship with a praying mantis, wings folded / at our altar of Queen Anne’s lace. There is wine on the table—father, please don’t / let the calf bleed on me.

Book du jour
by Sarah Freligh

Open Contests

by Stephen Parrish, with the editors of The Lascaux Review

The Lascaux Prize Volume Six