Popshot 29 Freedom -SAMPLE

S h o r t S t o r i e s / F l a s h F i c t i o n / Po e t r y

POPS HOT QUARTERLY THE ILLUSTRATED MAGAZINE OF NEW WRITING

Exclusive poem by Simon Armitage, Poet Laureate

THE FREEDOM ISSUE Issue 29 - Autumn 2020

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DOG WORLD Fla sh fic tion by Cody Lee Illu stration by Dominic Twigg

Okay so, as you can see, I’m a chihuahua. Fifteen years ago, Elon Musk invented a translator that allowed dogs to talk to humans, and vice-versa. It’s this little triangle on my collar. And no, the collar doesn’t mean I’m owned by anyone. They’re stylish. Plus, it was either this or insertion. I’m a third-generation speaker; my grandparents weren’t given much of a choice. It was a lot harder for them. The ability to communicate with humans was supposed to give us equality, something that people had been fighting for, not us. But when it happened, no one wanted to accept it. Naturally, dogs were kicked out of their homes for talking back to their owners, not so cute anymore. No one would give them jobs, and that trickled down, so that’s why there are so many of us sleeping on trains and buses, asking for a can of food.

But like I said, I’m third-generation so I work at an ad agency. I go to the bar with my human friends afterward. Sometimes, I go on dates. I cook mac and cheese, frozen pizzas.

There’s definitely still a difference between us and them. I can feel it. And I really can’t tell if it’s us or them throwing these vibes. Probably a combination of the two. At work, I’m one of maybe three pups in the entire building, and whenever Snoop Dogg or Gidget from the Taco Bell commercials comes up, everybody looks at me. Like, bro, I don’t know them. I’m hopeful, though. I heard in the next couple years, they’re introducing the ant translator, so that’ll probably smooth things out a bit for us. Can you imagine that, talking to an ant? Like, why would you even want to…

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WHAT I ALWAYS WANTED POE TRY TO TELL ME Poem by Eli zabeth Gibson Illu stration by Chu Chu Br iquet

Hey, being gay is fine – it is actually quite lovely and warm, and here is this woman I have fallen for, here are descriptions of her that will make you cry with relief, see stars of desire.

And oh, god, the human body is wonderful: all hair and sweat, round like a planet or slack as a river, it is life and history and poetry and yours will be a miracle to someone, someday, and it is fine for it to change, fine for your mind to change, and did I mention it is just gorgeous and brilliant being gay?

It can be soft and careful, or it can be the ocean and fire, and you are welcome to read my accounts of it with hands between your thighs – nothing is dirty inside you, I swear, it is okay to search yourself to find an answer, find many.

This is how I have got here intact, how I fought the pain, so please – stay. You have something to offer, I guarantee it.

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SHEDDING Poem by Cammy Thoma s Illu stration by Michelle Wagenaar

I shed all clothes that feel too tight, take off my shell, the one for teaching.

And the books I won’t read, I give away.

No more thinking about our dogs, buried under the forsythia in my childhood home. I try to shed the darks, the askance glance of the world, moments when everything blacks. Drop the desolation of the grocery store, the lonely feeling when something ends, incinerate the high-heeled shoes.

Farewell laden knick-knacks— oh sweater from my brother, oh duplicate spatula.

Goodbye to my father, the way his hands shook when he polished his boots or poured pancake batter into the iron pan.

Dump the poisons in the garage for ants and bees in the eaves, six file drawers of teaching, the sound of the highway growling and sighing in the distance.

No more fear for my children, that jolt in the chest imagining them spilling out of smashed cars, or sinking into solitude and grief.

I shake the sand out of my shoes, shed the sugar, keep dusting and dusting as yellow pollen blows out of the pines.

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THERE IS A PLACE WHERE MY THIGHS DON ’ T MAT TER Poem by Kathr yn Anna Marshall Illu stration by Shut Up Claudia

I have been building to this for a year. Salads. Smoothies. Herbs that don’t work.

Panels in swimsuits with skirts.

Hurry and heat thwart my elegant stroll to the foam, where the shore meets the sea where I cannot stand, because people are thinner than me.

Shame hits my thighs as I wade dip – let my shoulders remain, lift my feet, feel power propel, safe in the support of the swell.

Plunge down to where all limbs are equal, emerge. Dive deeper again.

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Popshot is a beautifully illustrated quarterly magazine showcasing imaginative short stories, flash fiction and poetry by the best new writers.

The Freedom Issue is a collection of vivid writing about the importance of liberty, free will and feelings of wild abandon. It includes an exclusive poem by Simon Armitage, stories about sexual freedom, breaking out of society, mutilated gods and a land where dogs fight for equal rights.

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AUTUMN 2020