Rhythm & Bones

Rhythm & Bones

November 24, 2019

Photo by Sofia Sforza on Unsplash  


by Ceara Hennessey

            Chelsea is a shotgun person, you see. She goes off when her trigger is pulled. We were watching kids throw rocks at trees in Bryant Park when the mother of a nine year old b...

November 24, 2019

Photo by Karen Cantú Q on Unsplash 

Godiva Leaves Town

by Nikoletta Gjoni

            In an effort to erase the shame, stories will later say she roamed through empty streets under a canopy of darkened clouds, head down, arms l...

November 24, 2019

Photo by Autumn Goodman on Unsplash 


by K.B. Carle 

Phillis Wheatley was a former slave, kidnapped from West Africa, and was one of the first women to publish a book of poetry in 1773.

            Hester sits by the door filling the pages of her journal with poems a...

November 24, 2019

 Photo by Mahdis Mousavi on Unsplash 

Sensory Overload 

by Amanda McLeod 

I need to see it all, feel it all. Touch everything, taste everything, touch everyone. Taste everyone. My skin prickles with longing for it and I’m edgy, minuscule jerks and twitches giving aw...

November 24, 2019

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash 

when you write her name 

Joaquin Fernandez 

After the fourth time you write her name, practicing for the finality of an ink pen on a love letter, you’re going to stop. You’re going to ask yourself, out loud, what’s gotten...

April 20, 2019

Turtles, Siblings and Hondas

by Caitlin Cording

My brother, Kirk, did this weird thing with the turtles inhabiting our garden pond. Every summer he would construct a metal den, grab an industrial-sized cosmetic sponge and a few wayward fellas, then polish their shells. H...

April 20, 2019

Ashtray Monuments

by Ashley Naftule

I found the first one outside the Title Fight show. It was lying a foot away from the ashtray, twisted and bent with a blush of bright purple lipstick staining the end. I knew that color anywhere: Paisley Park No. 9. I still find tubes...

April 20, 2019


by Scarlett R. Algee

For the first time in weeks, I’m alone in the house. Gran’s out talking over the garden wall with one of the neighbors; Mam’s hanging out the wash. Me, I’m sitting on my bed with our best kitchen knife, running the edge over the hard points...

April 20, 2019

The Word Witch 

by Bayveen O'Connell 

I was walking up Grafton St. alone after drinks with friends in the Stag’s Head. As I’d left, the stag over the bar winked at me. It was quiet near the top of Grafton St. and I took a glance in the window of Dubray Books with a yearn...

April 20, 2019

Six places I am disintegrated 

by Tara Isabel Zambrano 

1.      When I come home from work early. The door to my husband’s office is ajar. Jaan, he’s saying into the phone, a word I thought was reserved for me. His voice spread between...

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