Poetry & Short Fiction
We hugged each other tightly and quickly let go. With no hope of seeing each other we cried, “Hope to see you soon.”
A Journey to Kandahar
Two poems by Elyas Alavi
even though no one can quite name it everyone knows that something is monstrously missing from me
2018 & 2003
Two Poems by Yusra Amjad. Illustration by Priyanka Paul.
Shatterd by by bullets; shiny glass facades Shitty coffee poured in environment-friendly cups. Sports cars on crumbling asphalt And, high-end brands walking in a seiged air
To a Suburbia Called Ramallah
A poem by Adele Jarrar.
Your refusal might enrage the master. He might abuse you, and call you a parasite for refusing to do any work after eagerly swallowing the food last night. Become even more determined. Sit tight.
Two recipes / poems by Rajyashri Goody; with audio reading.
After going missing for three months, Lisa, Suddenly appears at my midnight window. “I have an idea. A very bad idea” She whispers through the bars. I, both waking and dreaming Forgot to ask the important questions. “What? Tell me”.
A poem by Aleena; with audio reading.
it takes only one time of writing something to call yourself a writer but how long until the title is revoked? just how much non-writing must one indulge in in order to be punishingly excluded? is it a week, a month, a year? or is it until all writing utensils are out of harm’s way, no longer kept at an arm’s reach, or worse, simply no longer reached for?
A poem by Vanessa Kowalski: with audio reading.
The abandoned skin of a smoked salmon lies on a dish as everyone’s stomachs are full. The fish has been washed down with sparkling wine, with bubbles that make people tired of wishing everyone a good and blessed midsummer, that makes marveling the good weather too effortful. Each time they celebrate the nightless night by raising their glasses, the edges around their words become softer, blurrier.READ
A short-fiction by Johanna Valjakka.
You own my wet pink sock As everything else I carried Dry memories disrupted by molecules of time A silver stoned flower nose piercing Peacefully scrimmaging with your wild red curls Supposedly acupuncture for the nerves Pain relief pins in India for childbirth. Ensured in the volcanic pile of all your belongings High up
I wake up on somedays In houses with patched walls And a bucket with water in the middle of nowhere On beds with no sheets And stamped up cockroaches at the edge of the bed My hand’s in a pile of ash And my glasses are lost in someone else’s hair I smell smoke and hear snores The only clean thing in the room is a gleaming red guitar
Friends and their homes
A poem and artwork by Priyanka Paul.
The girl looked up, and her gaze met Marina’s. To her mild surprise, the girl walked toward her. Marina flushed and looked away. It had been a long while since anyone had last talked to her. Her heart pounded in her ears and her palms felt sweaty.READ
A short-fiction by Toshiya Kamei.
waiting for my girlfriend to come to me waiting for my girlfriend to come for me waiting for my girlfriend to laugh at me – so I can weep waiting for my test results to rescue me
The Cruelty of Impatience
On her third birthday, I got my youngest daughter a toy space soldier. It was a male action figure in a mech suit. The helmet slid back to reveal a solemn face. Fifteen years later, I still cringe at my blunder.READ
A short-fiction by Toshiya Kamei.