Issue 4: Making Metrical
Putting On Eyeliner With PTSD by Rene Ostberg
After traumatic endings, there are no fresh starts. No fresh mornings, no fresh facing of the day. Your worldview changes, your face to the world changes, your facing yourself in the mirror in memory in mind in the morning at midnight. At night, I at least understand...
Sexology by Penney Knightly
Empty cup that is how I think of the organ turned over like a mound of dirt, sleeping and awake, earthly exhale, between two ham legs. You would have thought there would have been a lesson, a mandatory course, the steps to work it out: we give tests for driving,...
Only The Body Understands by Wilderness Sarchild
a soft thing that purrs in your lap, a lion gently licking his mate’s genitals to awaken her, a panther pacing in a cage, the fear that bites your finger and won’t let go when you grab the nape of your cat’s neck from the dog’s fangs. . You, too, became feral once:...
Elena’s Eyes by Desiree Simons
Elena’s Eyes When she was seven she was Queen of the Mountains. The village dogs bowed low as they lay wisps of feathers, and warm snake eggs at her dusty feet. Her belly was often empty But Elena’s eyes were full of promise. When she was thirteen a woman came and...
The Shoe by Sharie Kelley
She lost her shoe a convenient shoe. A klutzy sandal not sandals which would catch the eye of a man unless he were the sort of man who had put sex behind him and was drawn to anything that foretold of comfort the kind of guy who was long-winded and as chummy with the...
Abuse 101 by Terri Miller
In my era abuse was not talked about If sexual abuse, the authorities would ask: What were you wearing? What did you do to seduce him? Blame the victim, no arrest made. As time changes so does the view of sexual abuse. Bitter memories of my brother who at 15 years...
Fingerprints by Sheila Cooper
She imagined everyone could see them, the fingerprints they left behind. No special brushes or powder needed to reveal the damage that was done. She imagined they glared at you like a neon sign, “VA ANT,” flashing above a cheap motel. A hole in the center that no one...
Recovery Manual by Penney Knightly
when I turn to the bottle I am only drinking when I cry in my sleep I am running when I wail in the night I am singing when age caves my eyes in I am remembering when hope is done I am enduring when badness is there I am lying when I turn to rest I am still...
Did This Really Happen? by Paul Douglas McNeill II
When I was seven, you blew a hole in my fucking soul. I was only seven. seven. A sick day. But not really. But really. The door, it hardly creaked. I saw, straight away, first thing, your fat, veiny, stubbly legs, sharp, yellow, broken toenails, and that...
My Name is Elizabeth by Desiree Simons
Crystal’s tough and street smart. Show no fear and never cry. That’s her mantra and it serves her well. She’s sixteen and has called this corner home for two years. She used to look over her shoulder, always poised to run in case they came looking for her. They...
My Sister by Meygan Cox
One time, my sister asked why people do not swim when it rains— her point being they are already wet. As much as I tried, I could not answer. In the years to come, she began to tower over me, a foot taller to be exact. Her face grew long, but not in a dreadful way....
Packing Away by Marianne Peel
That summer in Brooklyn the streets were hot to the toes, asphalt like fire on our feet. Uncle Mike sent my Isabella to the corner store to buy a pack of Camels, which would heat up this tin can of an apartment even more on this June day. Isabella could hardly unglue...
Remnants of Gunfire by Jharmaine Boyd
My mother was making dinner She told me to go across the hall To get some sugar for the kool-aid I knocked on my neighbor’s door He invited me in He was 15, I was 6 And he had a gun aimed at my heart He shot it But he missed But then he shot it again And I took the...
Untitled by Iris B.
I have always been quiet, humble like a little mouse I spent my time at the farm, scurrying around scared shy shameful for what I know not. But that was all a long time ago. I have found my voice, buried the secret shame deep down in my brain. I stride through the...
The Liar by Dana Robbins
Her mother told the other mothers that my friend was a liar, so that whatever she said no one believed her. On sleepovers, her uncle crouched over our beds in the dark. Her mother changed my nightgown. You wet yourself, she said. I was nine, knew I was not a bed...
The Neighborhood Exegete by Karlo Sevilla
That 50-year-old who “loved children” must be avoided, they said. He’d done it again and again but was never prosecuted, the elders said. But he had a biblical theory humming in his head, I said. When Adam started touching himself, it was decided, he said, To create...