She Wish She Was a Nigga By Jari Bradley Summer 2017 It is easier for people to think I wanteda dick swinging between my legs. It makes more sense that way instead of thefacial hair that came at the same time 0 Comments
Liberation By Shauna Barbosa Summer 2017 I count gulls until they spasminto numbers, until I graspa number never uttered. 2 Comments
When I Tell My Father I Might Begin to Pray Again By Leila Chatti Summer 2017 He says he’s never really stoppedspeaking to God. Says it’s in his DNA, askingfor things. 0 Comments
Mother By Leila Chatti Summer 2017 If you had asked me, thirteen, what I wantedto be one day, I wouldn’t have said it. 0 Comments
Mubtadiyah By Leila Chatti Summer 2017 Hidden in a dim stall as the muezzin calledall worshipers to prayer, I touched privatelythe indelible stain. 0 Comments
Menorrhagia By Leila Chatti Summer 2017 Christmas, flew home packaged like a gift. Beneath my jeans a childlike padding. Came to adore the wee god, his dolorous mother. 0 Comments
Storm By Leila Chatti Summer 2017 The summer after, a stormsplit the sky over Hergla and I wanted to be in it. 1 Comment
Pyroclast By Sara Eliza Johnson Summer 2017 When my body blew openthe shadow-glass cloudgalloped through me, glittered 0 Comments
Nebula By Sara Eliza Johnson Summer 2017 The anemone of your dream bloomsinside the vacuum of space.In your pocket of black wind 1 Comment
Alterations By Javier Zamora Summer 2017 She says she lit a candle and placed it under my balls when I was bornbecause they were too big, 0 Comments
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