Bronx

By Natasha Cooke
Our skin seeped into New York’s sod, roots drinking our veins. We tied ourselves over, and he licked my palms. His breath of onsen youth.

First Five Heartbreaks

By Serene Vannoy
My first heartbreak I heard through a wall in a Southern California suburb, after my father the sailor retired, after we thought we'd settled down,

Photo Story: Night Swimming

By Melinda McCamant
Wet footprints, dancing shadows along the edge of the pool. The turbid water glows like fireflies and in its dark center the moon, almost full, overhead.

Photo Story: A Lonely Washing

By Tony Press
“It’s a lonely washing that has no man’s shirt in it, Eileen, don’t you forget it.” That’s what my mother, quoting her mother, told me, and told me, and told me.

Guilt

By Ruben Adkins
when the fish swallows the hook, the night falls, dragging purple down into the belly of the sea.

PTSD

By Ron Riekki
My girlfriend wipes her makeup off. We just fought. She wipes her face off, skin flapping.

Apocalyptic River

By Fred Muratori
We picnicked by the sullen river, its water brown, opaque and dense enough for starving frogs to flop across.

The White Devil

By Shara Concepción
We watch each other in the blue glow of predawn, limbs entwined. We speak with our eyes: "I grow hair on my back now," I say...

Photo Story: Marissa

By Mary Chandler Philpott
Marissa and Carlos are in love. She told me. She told me she spends more nights at his place than at hers.

The night before the Fourth of July

By Susan Roney-O’Brien
when I am tossing the neon pink tennis ball the dog found under the porch, the man in the next yard hammers in staccato flurries...

Night Music

By Maureen Traverse
All summer we stayed with Mazie’s mother, who smelled of lavender and gin. We strolled the boardwalk every day, pretend ladies in tattered lace...

The Fish Room

By Jennifer Anderson
I snuck down there evenings he worked at the sawmill, to the lath and concrete room where he gutted perch, tossing tails to the cat.