An Infinite Number of Things That Are Not This

hen I arrived in Memphis, I had just dropped out of college and found a temporary sublet in a friend’s apartment on Poplar Avenue. The city felt glamorously run-down, like an Eden of the South, ravaged and plundered by Sin herself. The streets smelled of sour mash and slow-cooked meats. It was springtime. The dogwoods…

River Fever

he dew is settling. It looks like forgiveness without absolution. My boyfriend will not call me. I will not complain. This happens every Tuesday. It is Tuesday again. Riverbank––I feel the fleshy insects crawling over my skin. Cold skin. Dead skin. I can hear the river too; my tragic, restless resting place. The light is…

Tame

at 11:11, after an absence of months,after lingering, as a pair of glowing eyes in and around the mouth of the submarine-grey tiresome of social media, you emerge–the large silvered wolf whose love and hatred of life is still full of fangs. ravenous, you eat the meat of attraction maddened that curiosity and desire can…

Ballerinas

& like cats & dogs we eventually make our peace trapped in the same small squares both seeking a place for our heads simply my tail wrapped around yours we different species but forever in love & chasing one another like cats & dogs by Elrum Daus

Pollution

e really was a strange little bald man. Not quite tweed jacket pulled close to him, furtive and alone, stealing down to the creek bank where the light caught his glasses and the waves. I didn’t believe it really, the first time I saw him kneeling there; sternly, sweatily uncorking the bottle of cleaning fluids…

3 Poems by Joshua Dale

Josh Dale is a Temple University senior that has been previously published in Black Elephant Literary Magazine, Dead Snakes, Peeking Cat Poetry, Madness Muse Magazine, Paradox, In Their Own Words, Indie Affair Magazine, and Temple’s undergraduate literary magazine, Hyphen. A short story writer by heart, and a craft beer enthusiast by soul, he has switched…

Baptism

hen I was six I watched Carol Anne, a girl several years older than me, walk down the aisle to be baptized. That night I asked my mother if I could try. She looked from the sink of dirty dishes down at me, then yelled for my father. When she told him what I said,…

Sometimes My Hand Shakes

Sometimes my hand shakes and I think Parkinson’s. A jab or twinge in the side, and I think kidney stones. I feel a shuddering from far away, and I think bombs. Sometimes the girl behind the counter at the coffee place Lifts a hand and tucks her hair over the arm of her glasses, And…

5 Poems by Todd Osborne

Todd Osbourne’s work has previously appeared or is forthcoming at The Missouri Review, The Collapsar, Hobart, Storm Cellar, and elsewhere. He holds an MFA in poetry from Oklahoma State University, and is currently pursuing a PhD in poetry at the University of Southern Mississippi.