Fiction

Shlomo and Fanya

The girl, a matchmaker, asked to see Shlomo’s hand. Reaching from her coat pocket, she pressed a tarot card-sized photo into his palm.

Apr 03, 2020
Unbecoming Behavior at the St. Agnes Fair

He always smelled like fabric softener exhaust from the laundromat down our block: like blue bottles of Downy and Saturday nights, when Mami would blow dry my hair straight with dollops of Dippity-Doo.

AREA CANNIBALESS

Some just want a lick of fame, prostrate at my feet with their sweaty headshots as if I am the one to save them, as if they are worth saving.

Forever Atlas with a Balloon

What does a melon dream about as it bathes in tendrils of rainwater, wishing to be invisible?

Mar 13, 2020
The Smell of All Mothers

It was That Smell, that-so-familiar-one that hurt me not to remember where I’d smelled it before.

Mar 06, 2020
150 bpm

It’s the heartbeat that I can’t forget. When the sonogram technician held her transducer to my abdomen and turned up the sound I was surprised by its rapidity.

Feb 28, 2020
The Giant

It was here that Dad told me the story. I didn’t know where the story had come from, or how long he’d carried it inside him.

Skin Hunger

She, too, often felt she would die if she went without physical contact. She worried sometimes that this meant she was becoming one of them.

If You’re Waiting for a Sign

April says the people at church don’t talk to us because they’re motherfuckers.

Jan 31, 2020
You Do You

She updates the simple bio on her dating profile: “looking for nothing serious. I am really into knives. Really, really into knives, ask me about it.”

Jan 10, 2020
Venus Conjunct Saturn

Maybe it wasn’t that Angie wanted to break things off with Kate; she just didn’t know enough to decide if she wanted to keep going.

The Christmas Story

This time of year, there are so many people pretending excitement when they feel none.

Dec 20, 2019
Si Dios Quiere

Raul returns the greeting, always the same: by running his pointer finger over his throat in disapproval.

Dec 13, 2019
My Mother, an Ouroboros

Who were we? Puerto Ricans stuck in a drift, still moving from an American haunting howling on The Island, howling in us.

Dec 06, 2019
Eagle Son

The swastika on his sign is hand-drawn, a little uneven. Painted, not permanent marker. He made that thing himself. A Nazi crafter.

Nov 22, 2019
An Exercise in Paranoia

The prayer for air safety then begins to taxi to a halt: “Charge your angels, oh Lord, to escort the plane from take-off to landing.”

The Moon’s Navel

“You’re Mexican!” he said a little too enthusiastically, like I was just what he’d been looking for. I worried that he was going to put me in his museum or something.

Nov 08, 2019
The Whales

The whales would sing because they were alone, but with each other, their song a reminder that loss and exile are linked.

Nov 01, 2019
Year of the Pony

I can’t stop seeing the brush in her hand as a scalpel, her countless bracelets jangling as she prepares to make the next cut.

Oct 25, 2019
wIndin!—the exhilarating game of kinship, chance & economic redistribution

The winner must avoid having part or all of his or her assets taken into trust by the federal government.

Oct 22, 2019