I had thought I was alone. A familiar scent of bleach and black coffee hung suspended in the warm air of my childhood kitchen. I remember looking down at my fiv... Read More.
RUPTURE
Before we leave Virginia, the doctor calls us from his home. It’s a video call and though he is the head of the clinical trial at Mass General Hospital... Read More.
Reading in Carceral Tense Vignettes of/with the Russian Dictionary of Imperial and Soviet Prison Slang
“It seemed that the incommensurable gap between the Sovie... Read More.
The first thing you need to know about Hot Spring Leisure City is that there are no hot springs.
It is January, and each hotel room has an unfinished bathtub th... Read More.
Confession: I don’t know my ancestors’ names. Also: my Mandarin is lousy. I have never been to our ancestral village. My grandparents were dead before I was a teenager, and I still haven’t set up a proper altar in our house with photographs and incense.
INVOCATION (咒語)
In the beginning, what was my name?
I wish I knew where I came from. Before my mother had forsaken me, she left me with nothing — no heirlooms, ... Read More.
I.
I was being led by something. So tender and raw inside of my body that I can’t point to a specific place — there was me before I had ever seen a dam. And the... Read More.
Do you have an elderly parent who has fallen victim to internet conspiracy theories? Has your politically moderate loved one begun spewing racist and militant r... Read More.
Humza went to school with me in Kohat. We were always competing with each other for the first position in class. His father was in the army, and he’d just gotte... Read More.
The week the pandemic hits, I break my lease in Little Haiti and drive fifteen hours up the I-95 to be with my parents. My father has bad lungs and I’m scared t... Read More.
In 1996, the year my mother died of a heroin overdose, Purdue Pharma started to sell OxyContin in the United States. The company aggressively marketed and promo... Read More.
by Rogelio Juárez
I could talk your ear off about the current state of Mexican-American literature. I spent the first half of my life in public schools (g... Read More.
by C.A. Schaefer
for E
Dust remembers what we try to forget, preserves the hidden, and keeps evidence in wait. Dust is composed of dried peas knocked dow... Read More.
by Zoe Fenson
Today is June 30, 2020. One year to the day since we lost you. I am standing at the ironing board, running a hot iron over a folded and stitched... Read More.
by Marianne Manzler
The first time I watched you kill a fish, you were methodical and emotionless, striking it in one blow. We stood in the kitchen, wea... Read More.
by Lauren Krauze
April 10, 2020
Four weeks. Four weeks and still the virus. Things that were once normal now seem absurd.
Early one morning ... Read More.
