Issue 2.3: Elizabeth Acevedo

Sim Sala Bim by Gina Williams
“‘Is this all there is?’
The question caught me off guard for a split second, sucked a little bit of air from my gut…”

Where We Are by Jared Yates Sexton
“The thing that really got her was how I listened to records all hours of the night. She said she didn’t care about my moods, my general nihilism or ill temperament…”

Hunger, Not Tame by Sheila Lamb
“Brutal wind beat against the door of her camper. The cold didn’t bother her—Kate had only ever lived in cold and windy environments—but the sand did…”

Waiting for Flight by
Michael Chin

“Carl Perkins spied his son’s ex, Lucy, in the airport terminal…”

Misfire by Joe Oestriech
“An hour after load-out, Biggie pulls the Econoline into the parking lot of the Raleigh Fairfield Inn…”

What of the Raven, What of the Dove by Randon Billings Noble
“A story was growing inside my neck but I didn’t yet know what it said…”

The Line by Amy Collini
“The week before I leave for freshman orientation at Ohio State, my father offers me a gift: an “in” at the plant where he works…”

Moth in the House by Jessica Greenbaum
“Skimming the wood floor like a bi-plane over the November fields,
might wonder where the breeze went, and all the chorus and lilt of the leaves…”

Bubble by Jessica Greenbaum
“Walking through the park, I saw a grackle ferrying a
bubble in its beak as it flew to the tree top where…”

Back Seat Event by Gabrielle Freeman
“I want to kiss you, but
I open the car door, and it is raining…”

Those Birds by Michael Colonnese
“Lined up on the wire,
each hunched…”

Everything She Can’t See by Liz Ahl
“The little girl is full of questions
and asks them all, one after another…”

Waterfront Metro Station by Elizabeth Acevedo
“through the speakers
the conductor’s voice scratched
a stop away from mine…”

Waterfront Metro Station

 

through the speakersthe conductor’s voice scratcheda stop away from mine

 

we stood stillwaitingfor an explanationabout the hold up

 

late for dinnercraving sweatpants and wine

 

i shook my headat a fellow passengersharing our impatience.

 

a manhas jumpedthe tracksat waterfront.my stop.

 

and i can see himhow he decidedjumping

 

was the best way.figured the quaking earthwould understand

 

how his bones felt,

 

how they can rattle in the hollow.he believed

 

the only forgiving dresswas sewn of smoke.

 

and what hands scraped

 

him off the rails?did he have anyone to receive him:a box full of skull

 

shardsand scrap of a yellow shirt?were we all taking him in that night?

 

the woman i shared a moment with before

 

huffed through her teethchecked her watch again

 

leaned towards mewhisperingif you’re going to jumpat least be considerate

 

enough not to do it during rush houram i right?

 

noddingi politely half-smiledand screeching train brakes sounded like music.

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