New work, from Issue 15: Mathilda Wheeler's "Sex Ed"
If Daddy listened, he would put down his paper. He would turn off the TV. He would look me in the eye. He would take off his reading glasses. He would not joke. He would not say, "For crying out loud." He would say, "What is it, Tilda?" And his voice would not be impatient. It would be caring. And if I said, “Nothing," he would say, "No. Tell me." He would know to ask, to keep asking. And then I could tell him. I could ask him. About boys. About rules. About Ted Sayer.
New work, from Issue 15: Emily Brisse's "Studies in Erosion"
As I climbed the narrow ladder, it bobbing beneath my weight, beads of sweat popped along my hairline. Once atop the board with this second instructor, I watched as she used a long pole to retrieve the fly bar from where it had been suspended. She motioned me forward ...
New work, from Issue 15: Sean Enfield's "Song of the South, Reprise"
I have this recurring dream—call it a fantasy if you want—in which I travel back in time to 1940s rural Mississippi and tell my white grandma that I’m her future black grandson.
New work, from Issue 15: Kristen Holt-Browning's "Studies in Erosion"
I haven’t been back in more than twenty years, when I was just swimming out of adolescence, grasping at those shiny-sharp crags of adulthood. I didn’t need this dinky creek, this crumbly beach, this tired non-town. I was big-city, I was metaphor, I was the oldest story in the book. My father was alive.
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