GASTROPODA

(they/she) is a queer writer & author based in Seattle, Washington.

after James McNeill Whistler She stands at the window hair tucked away hands on stone still. Morning light gold through tapping young...

-for franklin k.r. cline the snow shut the woods up for once & now everything is wet my boots & socks my cute little gloves all afternoon...

Shrimp take their revenge in the shucking. Long after they have been hauled up, reeling in the creel, long after they have been beheaded...

Struggle, in Orange Orange, the color of sunsets missed all summer as I retreated to a bedroom, shades drawn. Orange in my core simmers,...

A step past the marker and I lose the path, sink in a mud slough, fern beds, skunk cabbage, the marish and mire I’m not meant to walk...

source text: https://www.wsj.com/articles/a-swiss-alps-hotel-frozen-in-time-11607614389 Amanda Williams is a neurodivergent American...

Oh, my mother [rolls hands] you know, [pauses to smoke] she used to tell me, “Darling, when the sea foam crests, the ocean waves are made...

A flower with a single petal, plucked: he loves me not. Sideways glance, pursing of lips, progeny of silence. The insides of a button....

Walking now through the year I tried to fly, when I hung at the bottom of a chimney, how I landed on the wall above the piano, how I...

walking along abandoned shores collecting and inspecting old houses of snails whose design plays as reminder of ways that nothing is so...

it looked like lace underwear on the rocks “is that a jellyfish” you turn to me front teeth wedged into a Sandringham rock and you said...

Found, flaccid, amongst my greens, I scooped you on the shovel’s tip and lobbed you over the wall. Repulsive as a toddler with a snotty...

The raindrop has dived 6500 feet. His destination—a diseased mango leaf. The raindrop does not dwell on wasted grandiose; he knows his...

Country garden mosquitos skate over decay translucent greens marble murky concrete surfaces end papering the end betraying stagnant mud...

Jean Velasco is a writer, EFL teacher, and translator from Naarm (Melbourne). Her work has appeared in Kill Your Darlings, Overland,...

I leap from the edge of the marble quarry. Through the woodsmoke I fall; through the sea of stars beyond your eyes; through the rain as I...

HONEYMOON everything smells like honeysuckle at the wedding and I think what it must be to love like leaving a tab open or a thrown...

The black iris dribbling down the fencepost. Don’t lie to me—I know you’ve seen it, too, soft moss & wet carpet of autumnal blood. Don’t...

the birds, the birds for aster, what i think of around you – wings rushing up in a massive unfolding, reshaping. we all relearn as adults...