My mother said, “You started as a thought in my head when I was young and dumb and full of what I thought was love. But that was then, way back when the world was different, when I thought you could give something and take something from a man and make something better with him. But the well is poisoned.” She'd always say that, The well is poisoned. What does that mean? One year, for my birthday, mom took me out for barbecue. She said, “Just you and me kiddo,” and I laughed and called her silly, cause that was always the way it was, and would be. I had the wings, and she had the ribs, and she got sick and started throwing up in church the next day when the pastor mentioned the way god used Adam to make Eve. I sat on the stairs outside the bathroom, cause I was too scared in the congregation alone. And I listened to my god, retching, in the women's room.
Our Fall 2018 issue features poetry, flash fiction, artwork, and visual poetry from 26 astounding artists.