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Fiction

March-April 2018

Head Pressed to Stone at St. Vincent de Paul Cemetery

Poetry by Shane Neilson

Shane Neilson

I say your name and I do grieve. All names dredge the deep, but they fail to take heed and sprout. Hereabouts, mustard seed got choked by conglomerate needs rendered too economic. Scrub grass debriefs our fields. Old Dutch farmers sing about crop yield and claim to have never yielded, but wrote wills to sons […] More »
March-April 2018

Unpaid Editorial Intern

Poetry by Yusuf Saadi

Yusuf Saadi

We stapled your promise inside our eyelids. Now we sleep to the image of you with a tapered blazer and leather suitcase whispering: if you work hard you can have this. So we wake at 7 a.m. Cook our lunch. Women daub makeup on their irises and men stuff their bicep muscles with protein powder. […] More »
March-April 2018

Swimming Upright

New fiction by Kasia Juno van Schaik

Kasia Juno van Schaik@kasiajuno

  In the kitchen everyone is talking about Kendrick Lamar. Health Goths. Social workers. Lovers being just a little bit mean to each other. But who am I to judge? I who watch nature documentaries in the bath.   The bride-to-be stretches her toes on the sofa. I sit beside her and look at photographs […] More »
January-February 2018

CXIII

New poetry by Sonnet L'Abbé

Sonnet L'Abbé

Stinging cells tip the tentacles fringing the polyps’ mouths. Family to sea anemone, hydra, and jellyfish, corals live in many-minded masses, anchored to hard surfaces, growing together in sync. They grow over centuries, agglomerating into reefs by secreting exoskeletal calcium carbonate under their derrières (or, they poop the architecture of their limestone foundations). Cities of […] More »
January-February 2018

The Space Between

Short fiction by Amy Jones

Amy Jones

On the way to my first day at my new job in Edmonton, it finally happened: I found my soulmate. Thick brown hair, oystershell ears, baby blues that laserbeamed out from under a fringe of butterfly lashes. Shoulders wide as the Milky Way. Hands that could palm the moon. I was in love but he […] More »
November-December 2017

Third Eye

New poetry by Souvankham Thammavongsa

Souvankham Thammavongsa

My mother had given birth a few months ago. I thought it was odd, as she just turned sixty recently. I had not seen her pregnant. But there it was in the room, all formed. A baby boy. I didn’t know what his name was, only that she told me I could have him, if […] More »
November-December 2017

Combination

Poetry by Gary Barwin

Gary Barwin

in the end they say all poems are about hope but out of money I took this poem’s hope and pawned it I spent the money on a rhyming dictionary went home and looked out the window from my apartment you can see Hamilton mountain which is really just an escarpment like a mountain without […] More »
November-December 2017

Bad Actress

New fiction by Jasmine Szabo-Knox

Jasmine Szabo-Knox

I met Ana at a girls’ school where I taught French to her fifth graders, and lived in residence until June, in a room overlooking an all but abandoned airport. Ana and I spoke little during the first six months—the winter months—only becoming friends when the weather changed, skin already bruised, bearing a sudden heat […] More »
September-October 2017

Ode to Northern Alberta

Poetry by Billy-Ray Belcourt

Billy-Ray Belcourt@BillyRayB

after joshua jennifer espinoza here, no one is birthed only pieced together. i tire myself out pretending to have a body. everyone worships feelings they don’t have names for but no one is talking about it. love is a burning house we built from scratch. love keeps us busy while the smoke clears. history lays […] More »
September-October 2017

The Land of Milk and Honey

Poetry by Phoebe Wang

Phoebe Wang

This is the meaning of hedgerows, to divert us from Googlemap’s suggested routes. They are kept, and keep us, in good order, and are well-stocked with nectar and hawthorn. It’s my intention to be replenished, though I’m limited by what can be toted from beneath the archways back to my temporary situation. My mind is […] More »
September-October 2017

The Two-Handed Cloud

New fiction by Rudrapriya Rathore

Rudrapriya Rathore@rrudrapriya

Dizzy lay in bed on Monday, grocery day, feeling like she’d reached the end. She said a silent goodbye to the creamy swirl of crown molding on her ceiling. It was one of the reasons she chose this apartment. The daily golden light in the bedroom was another. She had not been very pretty in […] More »