Issue 7


Olam Ha-Ba (4th Movement of the World to Come in B Flat)
by David-Christopher Harris

In the first world, the chosen people had crafted them of mud, and flame, and Word. Cracked clay limbs had softened to flesh, and the Messiah—both elder and child—had awoken to song: Odem yesoydoy meyofor vesoyfo leyofor. Man begins in dust, and ends in dust.

This Is Your Life Now
by Lev Mirov

Later, when you ask the woman you remember as the one with a bloody mouth why she saved your life, she says it’s because she didn’t mean to hurt you.

You didn’t ask to be saved. You also didn’t ask for your legs to be crushed, and her bloody mouth didn’t undo the gap between the car crumpling and the ambulance arriving.


Bee poem
by Margarita Kos

All day the queen has been chattering in my ear. / I cannot complain; I invited her. / Truthfully, I’m too fond of her—her buzzing shakes something deep in me / And I want to respond with my own cry.

a siren whispered in my ear one night
by Ashley Bao

convinced me to connect the constellations on your back / behind seaweed curtains and underneath sea glass lanterns. / the sea called me, with the promise of soft skin and cerulean eyes.

He Tears His Hair and Asks Me What I Want
by Clarice Hare

Not much. Only everything.

Clouds to creek, hollow to / mountains, wren to / eagle, snails to / stars—greenness to / the cosmos.

Lover, You are the Vampire
by Martina Litty

empty streets: / I make illegal left turns at red lights. / the moon bursts and bruises: / a plum as the aftermath of violence / hanging over the web of glowing street lamps.

Cover Art

by Carly A-F