By Kerry Steib Olivia was a nightmare to live with. Crumbs on the table, towel on the bed, inserts to her magazines on the floor where they fell. “The maids…

By Hannah Cajandig-Taylor There are no original sentences about October. You make mental notes about clouds that live here, weather that happens there, what layers of atmosphere are closest as…

By Tara Isabel Zambrano I used to be an astronaut, he says, seated next to me in a down-town bar, sipping beer. I turn my head towards him. I am…

By Hartwick Hanson When I don’t feel too great I look up at the moon to remind me that I am standing on a ball of molten rock and iron…

By L. Soviero We’re in line for the Caribbean Corkscrew when I notice a trail of rust-colored blood running along my inner thigh. I see no cuts, but then an…

By Stipe Odak Drought That summer, rain did not fall for twelve weeks Thirsty foxes and self-igniting fires were waking us up during the nights There was a votive statue…

By Emily Alexander About some things I am certain: skydiving for instance and my utter disinterest. We sit together in the hot tub; steam confuses the dark surrounding forest, and…

By Daniel Miller The Homes We Found To my children, First, I want to tell you that you don’t need to worry about me. I know I left unexpectedly that…

By Miranda Williams I saw my boyfriend’s brother’s penis before I saw his. We walked into their shared dorm room—a disarray of sauce-hardened paper plates, haughty metal band posters, and…