GASTROPODA

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

Caught off guard by the question, I blurt the first thing that comes to mind: that I believe the twelve-to-six curveball is by far the...

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

It was a cool gray morning when I arrived at The Facility. They were expecting me–I’d booked The Experience yesterday. “Mr. Backus,...

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...

She spends her weeks in the cubicle, passing documents up and down the food chain. Men in suits roll past her like waves in the ocean,...

Editor's note: The act of receiving Rebecca's responses to the following questions was, to borrow a line from the original poem, an act...

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

I used to bake quite often. So often that whenever we go to the grocery store, I make it a habit to add a bag of flour into the shopping...

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...

Aunt Betty and Uncle Eddy visit me in the maternity ward four days before Christmas. My mother is going home to the six kids she can’t...

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

On my fifth birthday, Mom made a Winnie the Pooh cake with chocolate frosting. Thanksgiving, she made a Filipino Sans Rival cake with...

Laura resides in Seattle and is a writer and facilitator of possibilities. She’s previously been published in Recipes for a New Normal (a...

It’s what new parents call the witching hour, what people without kids call happy hour. I am standing under nearly scalding water,...

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...

In the morning, I reach out my feelers for you but there are only the folds of sheets and blankets, the softness of your pillow...

Editor's note: I was first drawn to this poem not because of the words themselves, but because of what the words were doing on the page....

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

As a child, I loved the Gem and Mineral Society. They have a building at Balboa Park in San Diego. It’s got the same adobe design as the...