Dead Ends

by James Stewart III

Taking a pale blue laundry basket from the closet, Jim has the boys follow him outside. He isn’t sure how he hadn’t thought about this before.

They walk out of the building and turn left past the dead-end sign and into the cornfield. Jim doesn’t know shit about corn. Chicagoland doesn’t have all that much in common with the rest of the Midwest outside of an amorphous politeness, which manifests itself in looking people in the eye when walking down the street and exchanging a “hey,” or a familiar head nod.
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Watching Season 3 of “How to Get Away with Murder” While a Procession of Honking Pickup Trucks Drives by, 2020 TRUMP Flags Flapping

by Jessica Hudson 

Somewhere in a basement in a two-
story house in Philadelphia, a black
body named Wes is on fire. Three

years & he’s still not dead. Now
let’s watch Viola’s eyes unspool
itchy tears, thread the foundation Continue reading

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The Bath

by Lowell Jaeger

Toddlers frolic nude
through the lawn sprinkler’s oscillating spray.
Screaming joyfully. Continue reading

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Comfort

by Bruce Petronio

Before they start the game, she asks him to get the kitchen timer. She’s sitting upright in the Barcalounger, in a flannel nightgown and a Buff head scarf, the Scrabble Deluxe board on a TV table between them. He gives her a look; they never use a timer, only the Merriam-Webster Collegiate she’s had since grad school a quarter century ago. Continue reading

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Horse on a Plane

by Carol Ellis

Last time she flew she sat next to a horse
whose voice harmed no one even as she bent
her head to look out the window. Continue reading

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