March 14, 2019

Artist statement: Dominique Duong is a freelance illustrator, concept artist and cartoonist working in London, UK. She is fascinated by the macabre, the surreal and the magical, with mythology, fairy tales, nature and folklore all being huge influences, but its storyte...

March 14, 2019

CONTENT WARNING: In this story I describe sexual assault in somewhat graphic detail; it might be a trigger for some. That said, that this story is essentially about healing from trauma and finding joy.

The New State set up a program, the “Root to Seed//Clean to Know” pr...

March 14, 2019


I do not know love, but I know her. I know her breath, her tiny chest rising and falling beneath my hand. Her blue eyes, wild and deep.

I can not protect her, I know this. But I will teach her to survive.

She comes into the world against my will. I am not ready. I want...

March 14, 2019

Content Warning: This piece may be triggering for some readers. 

Day 1: Malady is my catharsis; I house the coiled cobra of grief in my chest.

Day 2: Lord, be true; I am solace to seven devils.

Day 3: Poison is my genuflection; honey is my blade.

Day 4: Soil matter, h...

March 14, 2019

I stirred half and half into my coffee, overfilled so much that it dripped around the rim and formed a circle on the white linoleum countertops of the kitchen in my mother’s house. She was always in the middle of a remodel, and the countertops would probably the next t...

March 14, 2019

Content Warning: portrayals of domestic violence may be triggering for some readers.

My cheek presses into the cold hexagonal tile. With a few heavy blinks my vision clears and the suitcase comes into focus. It sits open by the locked door, winter clothes spilling out o...

March 14, 2019

Monica does the math in her head while she looks at the feminine hygiene products. Even if she buys the generic brands, she still won’t have enough money this week to cover rice, beans, coffee, tampons, and insulin. It’s Monday, and she won’t get paid until Friday. She...

March 14, 2019

“I dreamed I was a thousand years old and then, when I woke up, I was a thousand years old and I thought: am I dreaming?”

-Kate Greenstreet


Fifth grade marked a rite of passage for the kids in my class. It was a whispered promise passed from the older kids onto the yo...

March 14, 2019


The day after your mother is taken away, when you are thirteen and peeling layers of July heat from your shoulders and elbows and knees and thighs, when your hair is a dirty chlorine green from swim team lessons and cropped like a page boy’s, just like the ones...

March 14, 2019

Sarah Nichols’ Dreamland for Keeps plunged me headfirst into the world of Elizabeth Short, and not only under her more well-known title “The Black Dahlia”, but also as a symbol of dead women around the world and throughout history.

I actually knew very little about the...

March 14, 2019

Three Gothic Stories by Thursday Simpson (Moonchaps) takes the reader on a journey of longing, lust, loneliness, and sometimes, murder. As the title of the collection suggests, the three stories fall within the category of gothic fiction, following protagonists through...

March 14, 2019

Monstrosity by Laura Diaz de Arce lives and breathes within that space inside us all that is predatory, hungry, and filled with rage. She dedicates her short story collection to “anyone who was too much in a world was not enough,” and this idea represents the character...

March 14, 2019

In Hearing the Underwater, Savannah Slone shows a speaker oscillating at the boundary of their inner and outer worlds, each piece the rhythmic inhale and exhale of a queer woman finding  the edges of her personhood while the world stares in judgement. There are no easy...

March 14, 2019

lack of self care

cranes in the sky - solange  is sampled in this (the italics are the lyrics)

i take one deep breath

that barely fills my lungs but i still do it

& i think of what self care

should really be like

i tried to drink it away

& how so many black women

shoulder too...

March 14, 2019


previously published in Rising Phoenix Review

a ghost in the kitchen window mistaken for me

born with miner’s black fingers, witch’s green thumb / born from the swamps like Venus from the

sea / with bog scum beneath your fingernails

grew up playing dress-up /...

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