— or the ketchup packet one / over in the adjacent deli, the dearth of good strawberries / in produce.

In 1996, the year my mother died of a heroin overdose, Purdue Pharma started to sell OxyContin in the United States.

house become island, as inland pushes out / land. Outlandish, you say, this push and pull—

I / am ruined / how could I / ever leave / this wound

The form asks for / my job. Stay-at-home-parent, / a response given by the dozen, / lands wrong these months.

TSW Art Director, Meg Sykes, on creating the featured image for Issue 13: Rebellious Joy

TSW Artist in Residence, Bianca Ng, on creating the featured art for Issue 13: Rebellious Joy

TSW Artist in Residence, Bianca Ng, writes a meditative inquiry into rest

A companion guide of supplemental materials for Issue 13: Rebellious Joy

We’re all on the grassy patch of land east of Christ the King, our school, with our uniform plaid skirts hiked, wearing way too much lip-gloss and not enough deodorant.

When Mom called to tell me the news that Memito had died, I went to go fish out that old photo from what could barely be called a closet.

I came / I was culled

My fifteen dozen eggs––compulsive purchase of inherited scarcity––are delivered in blue cardboard honeycomb.

Do you get jealous? / Here, I walk / sweatless in the sunlight / and no one tries / to fry an egg on the sidewalk.

I am quick to enter when you’re gone, freeze at your alarm. I gave up knocking long ago.