Everything, Issue 29, Poetry

CADENCE by DANIELLE ELEANOR

your name tastes like the ocean in my mouth the highest arch of green smoothed by sun then            white foam fizzing out snapping bubbles kiss my ankles you go on for miles if I think about you and nothing else I can taste you whenever I want my lungs   s […]

Read more
Everything, Issue 29, Poetry

I’M PAINTING A HATRED OF YOU by ARIELLE TIPA

my twin, my twitch – prettily you demonstrate your lazy eye the rococo latticework of your scapula – you are most beautiful in braille my hammock, my summer my opium glitch, my tambourine din i’ve been cat-tongued in places you have never lived in tantrums you have never nursed you are killing me to death […]

Read more
Everything, Issue 29, Poetry

LEAVING THE LIGHTS ON by LIZ BRUNO

Sometimes I suspect I am nothing but a hotel. My mother stays in my lips. My father sleeps in my eyes. My last lover stumbles around With my flowery bathrobe flung on. Yes, there are guests lurking In every floor of this high rise, Even the uninvited ones. My ex-husband twists around my intestines. His […]

Read more
Everything, Issue 29, Poetry

AUGUST by SARAH M. ZHOU

August presses against me like something thick and heavy, sweet perfume clinging to air swollen with humidity. Thunder roiling in clouds like wet wool, apricots ripening and rotting in a blue bowl on the kitchen counter. A shimmering haze, thick enough to taste like herbs on your tongue, with bones weighty and bruised like thudding […]

Read more
Everything, Issue 28, Poetry

NORTH CAROLINA 1998 by CHESTINA CRAIG

I have these memories my mother & I bleary eyed in your southern kitchen, the cicadas chorus as you offer us toast waking us jet-lagged already dressed in your coffin, that bathrobe. I don’t know if it was really there then but I dress you in it every time you are alive in my head […]

Read more
Everything, Prose

EDITORS on EGGS

This is an apology. I’ve been throwing my hair over my shoulders for too long. Sometimes, I remember how to be still. I’ve tried, but I don’t know how to talk about her. Last summer, my nails were short and I spoke to people about who she was. The backyard of my parent’s home and […]

Read more