It is July so everything burns. Avenue X smells like dying fish and simmering sludge. The sidewalk has cigarette burns. … Continue readingMy Cells, My Snakeskin

by Christine Seifert Ellen’s room could hardly be called a room; it was more of a storage closet, a tiny, airless enclosure right off the kitchen. Just big enough for a bed and a wooden shelf where she kept her clothes neatly folded. Underneath the … Continue readingDeterminism

by Kimaya Kulkarni She sits down on the cold stone floor and settles back between the legs of her ancestor. Her hair let down, she closes her eyes as the wrinkled fingers find every dry space on her scalp and flourish it with coconut oil. … Continue readingSapiens