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The Magazine
“May the Stars Guide You Safely Home” and other poems
Jenny Molberg
Poetry
After I call the cops to ask for a protective order / I read about the girlfriend of a serial killer.
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Suit.co
Naomi Day
Fiction
,
Prose
Editor’s Pick
A package sat on the seat next to her, a pleasant block-lettered label naming Landry Kent as the intended recipient.
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The Cure-All • Plan B May Not Work
Hílda Davis
Poetry
Girl is attacked / in a park near home, and / before running, is called / crazy bitch.
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Piecemeal
Jack Chelgren
Poetry
Today my friend is late / 9 a.m. a cold spell / I go buy a coffee / from a nice coffee shop
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Cana
Anri Wheeler
Nonfiction
,
Prose
The first time I met my now in-laws, devout Catholics, it was Easter weekend. Dave and I had been dating for five months.
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Inheritance
Mariya (Masha) Deykute
Nonfiction
,
Prose
The Great Patriotic War came to visit me again today. I was throwing out wild raspberries.
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“Other Names You Have Used Since Birth” • A 14-Year-Old Boy Visiting California
Kaya Arnoux
Poetry
a mouth began / in the south east corner / of the continent where / a tribe of teeth / once shared rice
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Negotiation
Ruby Hansen Murray
Fiction
,
Prose
I carry a large box to the post office on Sixth Street making my way up the few stairs.
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“for brown girls who once considered themselves” and other poems
Ramya Ramana
Poetry
in 2029, i wake up next to a stranger. / the word husband for us is like paprika — / it adds color.
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Actionable Storytelling
Issue Parent
What exactly are the breaking points that force us to seek a fresh point of reference, to steer ourselves in the collective direction of healing?
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Editor’s Note
Editor's Note
How do we encourage critical thought around stories that may have once seemed heroic, but are actually harmful? How do we build new stories, new ways of living, together?
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Queer is a Verb
Saffron Douglas
Art
,
Featured Artwork
,
Nonfiction
In 2007, I had just freshly graduated from high school. I was a year ahead of my class and had put in the extra work due to acute boredom
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Fuel Crisis
Michelle Chikaonda
Nonfiction
,
Prose
“The car is hemorrhaging fuel,” I told Dad over the phone as we approached Grandma and Grandpa’s place.
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Picture Me Rollin’
Tiffany Marie Tucker
Nonfiction
,
Prose
For three years, I boarded a bus in West Pullman, then transferred to the Red Line train to attend Chicago’s Roosevelt University.
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Is this your first time?
Briana Gwin
Nonfiction
,
Prose
There are things you can’t ask at the clinic. Among your prescribed list of acceptable questions: Where is the bathroom?
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