Handcuffs On the way to see our boy in the detention centre I was wearing invisible handcuffs. “Don’t try to make them like you this time,” my husband said. He was talking about the guards. The bus lurched and my lunch wanted to become free of its cage. A sense of...
We're excited to honor these stories by including them on our shortlist for this contest. Congrats to the writers who have made it this far in the contest! Your piece has been handed over to our Guest Judge, Maurice Carlos Ruffin! Dead Things I Gave Birth To A Short...
Thinking about how she flung a softball right into my dad’s eye. How with her he was like helluva pitch, girl. How he said she could split the light with her fastball. How he said man, it's too bad you can’t play real baseball with an arm like that, too bad softball...
Content Warning: Miscarriage, abortion Following the meeting with the doctor, there was no thought of a baby shower. Too much rage. Too much grief. The two were indistinguishable, separate ropes twisted into a single noose. Bullshit about stages of grief, the mother...
the house had jasmine bushes that scented the backyard, veiling the odors from our rubbish bins. It's where my sisters screeched with laughter every time I read the lines “Sing Mother Sing, Can Mother Sing, Mother Can Sing,” from The Radiant Reader because our Ma had...
eggrolls should be rolled tight. they taste better that way & men like them like that too but Ntxawm is thinking about girls & one time one asked to hold hands during a school field trip. & one time at school is asked about what or who she masturbates to...
We're excited to honor these stories by being on our longlist for this contest! We'll have a shortlist to send to Judge Maurice Carlos Ruffin very soon! Memento Morrie Dead Things I Gave Birth To A Short Love Story Humoresque The Anti-Anti Natalists Envelopes Call Me...
After signing the divorce papers, I get in my car and drive the three hours to my sister’s house. I can smell the ocean from her driveway as soon as I open my door. “Yes, Jesus, thank you,” Beth says when I offer to take Nelly and Grandma to the beach. It’s freezing,...
She’s seventeen years old and standing at a bus stop in East Texas. It’s raining, and her hair is pulled into a ponytail. She’s wearing a backpack, and on the bench beside her is a green duffel bag with a broken strap. The bus is late. Her shoes are wet, and the...
We don't envy Judge W. Todd Kaneko's challenge of only picking one chapbook from this shortlist! We had the privilege of reading many fantastic chapbooks over the last few months, and we're sad we can only pick one winner. Here are the titles of the fifteen that make...
This la-de-da woman waltzes in. Skinny. Shiny-lipped. Designer facelift. Lenny, the crabbiest waiter, with his crater face, his cigarette breath, his lady-I-ain’t-got-all-day shrug, shuffles over to her booth. She, in her crispness, looks up at him in the space of his...
The autumn chill permeated Ruth’s wool coat as she hurried through the forest, dried leaves crunching underfoot. She clutched her satchel laden with contraband. If her parents found these candles, herbs, oils, and feathers plucked from her pillows, they’d demand...