Micro Prose: Birth Smell by Geula Geurts

Birth Smell Before I gave birth, every newborn I smelled was lemon fresh, unknowing seeds cracked open by promise. Glorious lemon, I said, holding a friend’s baby in my arms. Nameless sun. Crisp as wind. * During birth, I lay in the odor of my terror, body emptying itself out, unfurled gut, acid vomit, &…

Micro Prose: Two pieces by William Hoffacker

Will the Circuit Be Unbroken? Of course, as long as we play by the rules of a game, then really the game is playing us, and we say no to manipulation and yes to control, but you say we risk alienating our friends, the other players, the rule-followers, but we know better, because we’ve all…

Issue: 9.2

Fiction, Nonfiction, Poetry, and Art by…