Issue 40

touch that motherly tender love, with your five fingers and giggle out a laugh that will last. a lifetime. save your sister a piece of happiness, do not be greedy. the water is yet to boil and the hands are still open. catch all your dreams before the night shines. tell your father you wished […]

The color of blueberry syrup, stain-lines bleeding through a lifetime of August sunburns: they are angel wings, names of the once-beloved, crosses rising like lighthouses above collarless shirts. In this neighborhood south of the river, they are stories no one asks to hear, painted dot-to-dot with needles, told anyway. When the line to the smoke […]

I don’t want to talk about last night.                                      his smooth hands thick and ugly                         how I loved them I said                                                 I went by your old room and I looked into the window like I always used to.                                 I remember every night we spent there all the clever ways that I convinced […]

—after Chinua Ezenwa-Ohaeto: “A House so Cramped God Could Barely Squeeze In” the sound of clattering metals                       talks the room into a war ground you hurry into the living room the smoke of yelling clouds the air like dust from horse’s hooves father after […]

New Jersey is a convenience store I hunted for an ATM on an October night. I had avowed to never use heroin again but now I was half-drunk or half-sober The bartender immediately made me for what I was miserable and unconvinced that anyone had an answer or anything to offer to supplement the human […]

your mouth wants to forget the breadth of this place, forget how you rolled into it & swallowed its lynching rains. for what place turns the things in it into ashes. what place burns into the skin & says you’re an embodiment & a reflection of things cracked & squashed. a boy once saw you […]

I blame every Santa Cruz summer for every ounce of invincibility I’ve felt, if you can come out of the thaw still deer spry, if you can swallow the sun like those born here, you can do anything underwater & how many times should I have died but at 16 I didn’t believe in death […]

in cristian’s house there was always clamor the type of place where no deafness of money existed or silence of seclusion like the ocean’s depths and oftentimes we’d sneak up to the top floor where we would fill our pockets with pilfered quarters from his mom’s wardrobe drawer we’d walk along a drainage ditch down […]

I will come hard On the couch Tell me you like it deep That is it for me This salt ache I can hold you in my mouth For the rest of my life if I want to Feel the pressure release quiet Night refrigerator hums cars pass by I have packed the pots and pans […]

When I was still a girl, the boys asked when I’d stop believing in magic. They might ask you one day, too and you’ll have your own words, your own beliefs, your own magic. So all I ask is that you not forget the fish that leapt clear out of the water, the bubble you […]

i. will god let me be a conduit going anywhere i can have you, into elysian fields where i do begin an eager pilgrimage to where your thighs have already started kissing, where i do place my ear to your stomach as a shell to the sea and know the deepest part of you to […]