I’M TIRED OF WORKING FOR ECCENTRIC WHITE MEN Alexis Aceves Garcia n by eccentric i mean maybe as boys they tee-peed entire cul-de-sacs went to princeton n are now making 6 figures or maybe i’m working for a catholic high school white boy like the ones i used to smoke out @ parties […]
God Bless Harlem: Notes on Returning Home Shamecca Harris You can’t catch a taxi in Harlem and you wonder when you became a tourist in your hometown. The lime green car nearly runs you over to stop for the middle-aged white woman lingering in the crosswalk. She isn’t even hailing a cab. You […]
Trade Wars Alice Liang My father paid my first tariff: a penny for each word his mouth failed to form in English. What a venture bedtime stories became. Late nights, Dad sweats his retirement against the stock market. After hours, a teen wipes her brow adjusting bright orange price tags. At seven, a […]
I WORK Rosie Stockton sky crumples on the way to the workday my least dear fact that only exists in its performance of my dutiful choral citizenship proclaiming I work accumulating lush owedness high drama in the rain something rugged makes fatty my emotion & it will only be a matter of […]
Someone’s Responsible for All This Adrianne Bonilla Stankus The story came to Arturo as a needy mutt whose progenitors were surely premonition and déjà vu, but when he tried to grab it, it ran from him and into the forest. The story of The Girl remained in his periphery, uselessly orbiting outside the finite […]
Bad Bildungsroman with Table Tennis Jane Wong I painted my nails on my father’s brand new ping pong table. The table was set up in our garage. I remember it unfolding like the limbs of a praying mantis, charming but creepy. The table was so large it pushed everything to the side like […]
Huacho Claire Calderón Look at him. White socks pristine and pulled above the knee. The ribbon around his left arm neatly tied. Hair greased and parted. Ramón poses just like the others: feet together, shoulders square, but while they are stone-faced (some frozen mid-blink, some gazing beyond the frame), he is holding back […]
SONNET EXPANDING WITH THE MEMORY OF ANOTHER LIFE S. Brook Corfman When I wake I spill the cup, it spills each cup placed lip to lip. I didn’t use to deal with stress by sleeping through it but now I think I’m sick; now, I trouble the sky, close and open my eyes […]
Sana Badri, Walthamstow Market 1 Sana Badri, Walthamstow Market 2
A Homecoming for the City’s Son Frances Nguyen “We don’t have to go in there,” I said, realizing far too late my mistake. My father shook his head dismissively. There was nothing left for him to feel, he insisted. I had never before been to Saigon, my father’s birthplace. The city, apart from […]
