Crystal Pigs, by Allison Brice
I took my breakup quietly, like a pitiful February rain with no lightning.
Changing Hearts, by David Watts
I heard for the second time / the news of his heart transplant, / details like a post card from a foreign country
by Tommy Dean
I promised I wouldn’t follow, that I’d have to stay alive, because the people would demand a witness.
by Emily Bornstein
Don’t tell me there isn’t something pretty about you / (don’t tell me you don’t know it).
by Lynn McGee
I cradle him, big kid curled like an infant, water rocking, / chlorine staunching his vivid knees, belly swollen, / legs blue.
by Wendy Russ
Our message to Black writers: We want to hear your voice. We see you, we know you have things to say, and we want to see submissions from you. Please give us a chance to lift you up. We will actively recruit writers we see out on the internet. If you don’t come to us, we will come to you.
by Kelly Flynn
Every time I see my father, he asks me if I have lost weight. He has done this since I was a child.
by Andrew Hemmert
If the places you go become you, / you must account for the drive-through / liquor store housed in the old carwash.
by Lynn Mundell
The Iranian blue-glazed pottery sat on our parents’ shelves for years.
by Katie Manning
“And you know what the raven says.”
by Jordana Jacobs
Inside the ovaries of my husband’s grandmother, Sylvie, resided an egg the size of a grain of sand that would have been Hannah, my brilliant and accomplished mother-in-law.
by Katharyn Howd Machan
about his sadness. / About how the moon hung full / that morning, every morning