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Isn’t it strange the way you’re always sayingsomething I’d thought just the other hour or dayor the other way around? Or maybe,each was thinking the same phrase at the same second,just a question of who trots it out first:makes the other laugh or sigh, inside or out.That day you admiredContinue Reading

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Nam Hoang Tran is a writer and visual artist based in Orlando, FL. His work appears or is forthcoming in Posit, Bending Genres, Midway Journal, BlazeVOX, New Delta Review, Diode, and elsewhere. Find him online at www.namhtran.com.Continue Reading

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The story appeared in the magazine’s Personal Experience column. George always read the column’s first paragraph, then picked out a middle paragraph, and finally read the last paragraph. If he wasn’t too busy and there were enough potato chips left in the bag, he’d read the remaining inside paragraphs, inContinue Reading

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At fifteen, my first boyfriend and Itook a chance: kissed on a park benchunder cannabis clouds, and thejet exhaust near Kennedy airport. Five minutes into it, and beforeeither of us were ready to commit,our metal braces linked us most intimately as a full moon ascended amidstour raging adolescent hormones.We giggledContinue Reading

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Uneven planks, calloused wood weathered by nor’easterslead over the Atlantic, sand sharks below graze for chumthe bar at the end of the pier is a centerpiece for Budweiser and Hank Williamswhile cloggers shimmy to “Mustang Sally” for the third time of the evening. Those who fish huddle near the benchesContinue Reading

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I look upto feelthe flickers of lightburningwith silver- blue flamesjust out of reach. The tips of my fingers almost touchthe fireasI stretch high and farto where I believeyou have gone. I am breathlessfrom the frosted airon a winter’s nightin the countrywhere stars are aplentybut I am alone. Lynette G. Esposito,Continue Reading

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Show me your wrenched out heartI want to hold it in my clingy clawsI want to bite down on the fleshy fibersAs the blood drips down my gullet Give me your innocent eyesI want to see what the esse entailsSlurping down the milky messSavoring all your scene things My loveContinue Reading

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All my life, I waited for lovelike pineapple. Sopping bites,hair bristling on skin, tangyand biting. I waited for the nibble on my tongue.It never came. You came,and you were oxygen. You were misting rain,not tidal waves. All my life,I watched my father hail,and I bent towards blue. How to knowContinue Reading

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In the morningbefore it rains,nervous blue waterkisses the sandy shore lineuntil a dark storm interruptsthis noisy love affair. Then all is still. The water sleeps–its silver face serene. Lynette G. Esposito, MA Rutgers, has been published in Poetry Quarterly, North of Oxford, Twin Decades, Remembered Arts, Reader’s Digest, US1, andContinue Reading