My mother tells me I need a haircut because even she understands that, in this day and age, she can no longer instruct me kindly how many rolls from my stomach I have to lose before I am finally pretty. Continue reading “Spectator Sport by Marta Zawieja”
a… scare
that tricks the mind (half-waking). …
(fragments.—of-from a dream-dreams? … ). Continue reading “a… scare that tricks the mind (half-waking). … (fragments.—of-from a dream-dreams? … ) by Mark Bolsover”
Celestial Bodies
From the garden we look at the stars. Above us the jewel box spills out its contents, an offering. Everything else is invisible; at this hour the cerros are extinguished, and the electric blue is now black. Standing on the hill our bodies are imperceptible in the dark, our hands unseen as they reach for binoculars, our backs concealed to all but the cool touch of the rock, our necks occult as we peer down the tunnel of the telescope. Continue reading “Celestial Bodies by Jessica Sequeira”
Watermelon Pregnancy
Flesh-flavored bubblegum
Chewed to forget
The fruit I bore bare
In the boredom of 9pm
Or the way you thought my clit was cute Continue reading “Two poems by Jenna Velez”
my fire-breathing mother says she believes in love—
she preaches starvation, picks the latest
drive-thru-visit hoard from her teeth
with my toothpick legs Continue reading “An elf turns inside out for the dragon by Kate Garrett”
When I was younger I wanted my face to have that worn around the eyes lived in look of an old
French actress ( Simone Signoret) who once said that her ‘’ my face bares the scars, tears and
laughter of all of the years’’. I thought that was poetic and glamorous and true. At the age of
fifteen, I wanted the face of a middle-aged actress. At seventeen, I wanted a face that said I’d
lived 50 years, full out: Continue reading “Reverse pirouette by Bertie Marshall”
The magician saws a woman in half and pulls a rabbit from her ribcage, soft and twitching and wild. It is all done with mirrors. I look in the mirror. I press my breasts down to become more like myself. Continue reading “Hemicorporectomy by Kayla Bashe”
The Catheter Aria
The crescendo eclipses
the bustle by my bedside. Continue reading “Three poems by Joanna Nissel”
when the blood came the nowhere voice said paint your lips red
this was under the table in the blank space between sweetheart and cunt
I obeyed as I always do the nowhere voice
BURNING HOUSE PRESS 