My mom said she craved pancakes while she was pregnant, she’d make them for dinner almost every night, my dad never raised a brow, he liked sweet things. I don’t remember my first pancake in or out the womb, but I remember the butter melting into the browned flat cakes at age 5, and the …
Yeah sure, of course I’ve had those moments, the ones you came here for. Holding them while they mourn their dead trans friend, the friend’s green skin & blue gown, as if they were simply an angel being viewed underwater, which, you could argue, they were, that we all are, but I don’t want to …
ANTI-ELEGY FOR ALL THE TRANS PEOPLE WHO ARE STILL ALIVE
Myles Taylor Read More »
I was nine when our next door neighbors gave us a rotted out playhouse from their backyard. To move it into our yard, Dad removed a section of the fence and, together, he and our neighbor rolled the playhouse on a series of metal pipes, rotating each from back to front all the way across …
worse places to sleep than the beach until the cops show up or a garbage truck rumbles like a land tsunami. early low tide. terns squawk-fight over a fish. light shines under a line of gray clouds. a diver treads water under a crane barge along the edge of sanity known as dredging and the …
The Dragonfly Who Crossed Chesapeake Bay
for the immortal dr. bass
DL Pravda Read More »
We’ve been moving so fast I can’t tell if this bottle is misplaced from the others or simply stuffed under sheets because when I return to bed drenched in the day’s sweat she cannot stand the smell of me and, the next morning, when she has the smell soaked into her blouse, she needs to …
Bacardi in the Linens Closet
Cassady O’Reilly-Hahn Read More »
Fancy underwear keeps my thighs humble, hips climbing up the empire of my back. Between the huntress and the conquered– ** I stick my chest out for the gladiator boys who will eat me on dinner plates shaped like sheets. They do not care that I’m a good girl, even less that undergarments are fabric …
I lost my virginity to fireflies strung between two oak trees and a stream— I didn’t scream, but watched fire burn in the wood. I walk there now, barefoot, find the bug not like other bugs striking crooked match legs against rotten floor— a good bug, just like me full of spots on her back …
Pieces fall Reddish curls pile in the sink I’m sick of having wings when I wake up in the morning Shave it off Buzz the wings Skim away the opinions of others Who are more comfortable in the middle Thick piles are beginning to clog the drain Funny how what chokes the flowing water feels …
forget to chew before swallowing—that’s how effortless, how solid the dreams of silk, like if-you-believe-it, it-is, like you can drink rust and it will only corrode like home, clanging door hinges between kitchen and garage, your brother on the other side hammering who knows what. the air of silver turns bronze and brine, the can-opener …
If anyone asks, I’ll just tell them they didn’t fit anymore. My hands outgrew the confines of the pretty false silver rings your mother bought me, because I know she bought them. You couldn’t fool me. I knew you never paid attention. So, when I gave away your baby lamp, where I kept my jewelry …