Against Ruins, in Praise of Pink
“Yes, yes. Over there is fine. Just under the middle window. Thank you so much,” Braynah said, directing the two workmen. Both men, in burly middle age…
Writer’s Choice
Maybe a Mango, Recovery, Yearly Physical
Peach halves wobble in pineapple jello on the tray across her hospital bed, a kitchen accustomed to the elderly; still, Green Pines…
Results of the 2019 Dreamers Writing Contest
Congratulations to the winners of the Dreamers Writing Contest: Stories of Migration, Sense of Place and Home. In the United States, Dreamers is a term …
Drowning Manifesto
Do not tempt the sharks. Do not move your limbs horizontally or vertically. Do not hold on to pictures or passports or holy books…
Hail Mary
I’m crammed in with forty-nine other pairs of feet, shackled in steel. It’s kinda like a reverse Oreo of…
I Don’t Speak Icelandic
“Eg tala ekki Islensku,” I say, with a perfect accent: “I don’t speak Icelandic.” It’s the sentence I utter most often in my mother’s language…
Peace, Order and Pretty Good Normal
Hamid told Ava he was standing at the corner of King and James when a goose dropped like a flailing accordion out of the sky.
Desert Spirits
My mom made sure we were in the car by three in the morning, quickly cramming us into a rented tour van. Eleven of us were on the way to Mama Cuca’s house…
Home, Alone
Tucked into the soft cushions of the couch, I look out through the branches of the Christmas tree at the front lawn.