by Kay Cosgrove & Lauren Hilger
Now, when I read this, a cloud covers
a marble lobby deep in sick July,
changing my face with grief.
I have been here before,
at least every summer since, hot air,
a hug behind a locked hotel room door— Continue reading
by Lucas Shepherd
Someone plants a full beer bottle
near the jungle. Longneck, full
sweat in this humidity. Sure enough,
before long, a coconut crab emerges
between ifit trees. She is called robber
crab, palm thief. Glass clinks like a toast.
She pinches her trophy proudly, gracefully. Continue reading
by Sara Backer
During the war, my grandmother mailed springerle
to American soldiers in Germany. They could survive
the trip, their cookie lifespan equal to three hundred human years.
Two days to beat, to chill, to roll, to stamp, to bake their sugar,
flour, and eggs. She used a wooden mold of six pictures
carved by my great-grandfather in Dresden.
by Erin Carlyle
We set a girl to burn,
and in the ruin of her body we
stamp our feet—cake the mud
and ash. We set her to burn,
and we’ve been taught to hold
the tongue of ourselves, to kill Continue reading
by Sean Lause
Fever hangs in the willows.
The man with the cocksure eye
awaits you down this road.
Trees spell their leaves in syllables of fear.
A black ghost and a white ghost
dance a mystery through your past. Continue reading