Poetry by Sharon Cicilian
Over Easter brunch her mother-in-law inquired,
Why haven’t you given me any grandbabies yet?
The eyes of her in-laws fixated on her. She smiled,
ripped open a dinner roll, sliced the head off of
the lamb shaped butter and replied: I swallow.
Sharon Cicilian shares her life with three farm animals: Paul the husband, Queen Scruffy the cat, and Snoop a Loop the dog. She is completing her MFA at Goddard College.
Poetry by LaToya Jordan
Our Father, who art in Heaven,
However he be: drunk, sober, slipping strippers dollar bills, belligerent with a large group of men who look like him, I pray the Lord his soul to. »
Fiction by Shome Dasgupta
Did you know? Did you know that he and he took out my spinal chord and used it as a piano-. »
The main thing I see in the writing is this strain of what I call “hysterical lyricism.” Certain younger writers are just so saturated by visual media. »
so naughty but SOOO funny!
There’s a silence in the reader’s head at the end of this that must perfectly mirror the reality of it. Absolute social horror. Very good.