by Bart Edelman
The night twists tighter—
A tourniquet of desire.
And we can’t help but whisper,
Where are you, Osbaldo? Continue reading
Living Near St. Catherine School
by Jonathon Medeiros
I don’t recall the question or the response I gave, but I remember the frustration rising in the nun’s face, creeping up her neck before turning her mottled brown cheeks dark purple. She asked again, her words clipped, her lips tight, her long black habit shivering with her consternation, as the class nervously giggled. And another response from me, possibly the same response. I don’t remember saying the wrong thing on purpose. I wasn’t trying to be smart or funny. There was clearly a gap between Sister Scholastica’s query and my understanding of her desires, a gap that distressed me as I watched it yawn open— Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction
undone
by Tova Feldmanstern
i imagine the crumbling of a cookie or a cracker
into parts so small that birds flock to eat them
all at once, a community of birds, each delighted Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Once
by Sandra Salinas Newton
I once looked forward
To waking up
Turning to find you
Sometimes awake
And watching me uncurl from sleep
Your hand stealing its way
To my hip
A quiet morning now bursting
To promise of a dazzling hour. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Tinnitus
by Gregory Tarsiscis Janetka
It was late afternoon when I entered the bar. The sun was still high and shone through the small square windows, hitting the rough white walls and reflecting throughout. The place was inside an old hotel dating from the 30s. Perhaps even earlier. It was unclear if its current incarnation was a rare find to casually gloat about on social media or a setting within which to sneak the other woman in order to partake in dirty filthy things amidst blindingly fresh white linens. Maybe both. It smelled of wisteria and the nouveau riche. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
Hawaii Pacific Review 