For Witches Ohio, 1994 Here is a language for witches. No. Here is a language for high school. No. Here is magic in all its occult guises. No. Here is high school in all its occult guises. No. Here is a hallway in a high school. The floor is gray linoleum. Lockers line the walls….
Micro Prose: Dollar Store, Yes by Suzanne Richardson
Dollar Store, Yes The checkout girl is fecund with child, and her neck is so finely dappled with the unmistakable constellations of hickies that when she asks you if you want more (more chips because you have one bag, and it’s two for one), you automatically say “yes,” because clearly this girl is teaching you…
Micro Prose: To My Ancestors by Anishka Duggal
To My Ancestors To My Ancestors, Down the street around the cul-de-sac are the purple flowers that are shaped like snap-dragons except somehow prettier. I do not think they grew when you were here. // In the summer I am a browning leaf. I hear my bones crack and crumble underneath the smooth white soles…
Micro Prose: Thanksgiving, 1996 by William Hawkins
Thanksgiving, 1996 It’s a generous memory. My uncle holding crystal, delivering on the joy of family; his wife, my aunt, looking through the turkey one day after discovering her marriage vows had been violated. My father drunk again, my mother worried, her hand nervous at his side, trying to take a hold of his…
Review | Anne Champion’s The Good Girl Is Always A Ghost
by Anna Sandy-Elrod Anne Champion’s The Good Girl is Always a Ghost inhabits, identifies, praises, and laments the multifaceted, complex nature of womanhood. Champion writes odes to women—Sandra Bland, Amy Winehouse, Billie Holliday—and poems in their personas—Indira Ghandi, Bettie Page, Eva Perón—in a way that devastates, humbles, and breathes life into women across history, across…
Micro Prose: Animals Of Failed Memory—Ghosts by Henneh Kyereh Kwaku
Animals Of Failed Memory—Ghosts Certain—situations, occurrences, certain people—I’ve tried very many times to forget. & I’ve failed each time. & there are certain things a man cannot forget whether they want to or not. It isn’t a man’s decision to make, maybe God’s. I was promised by one of my *fathers, He said he’d…
Review | Jehanne Dubrow’s Dots & Dashes
by Cecilia Savala In Dots & Dashes, Winner of the 2016 Crab Orchard Review Series in Poetry Open Competition Award, Jehanne Dubrow speaks to other military families in the voice of academia and to academics in the voice of a Navy wife. Her poems, written in strict form like military rules, mirror the posture of…
Micro Prose: Mothing by Amy A. Whitcomb
MOTHING Not long ago, I wanted nothing more than for him to pay as much attention to me as he does to moth genitalia. Hiking into remote ridges, rigging the white sheet and black light, sitting outside through the night, face up close to the swaying sheet. Empty vials quickly become flutter-filled, shaking, then still….
Micro Prose: Henry, Henry by Robert James Russell
Henry, Henry Rosalie came down from up north to see the pond for herself. She’d left a note for her grandmother, asleep on the couch, that she was taking her Monte Carlo, and drove six hours, stopping only to eat gas station burritos and pre-bagged whole dill pickles and wash under her arms in cramped bathroom…
nonsermon #8: my soul
by Ben Lewellyn-Taylor A few months ago, I bought some flowers for my wife. She likes Queen Anne’s Lace, Anne being her grandmother’s name and their shared favorite flower, but the florist had none, so I settled for a mixture of orange and white flowers, the names of which I have since forgotten. In the…
