Almost Ghazal for Broken Girlhoods / Aubade for Our Re-opening
for wiping her hands into hourglasses, say forget this picture, say wif with more teeth, veil of sand funneling itself into woman: wif.
To the Republic / My Mind, My Body and I
The next person I was supposed to call just so happened to be named Justice. My generic script read, “Is Justice there?” I giggled. I was wondering the same thing. I dialed in the phone number, And the voicemail lady answered, She said, “I’m sorry. The number you dialed is unavailable.”
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A literary and art journal
from the MFA community at
Antioch University Los Angeles.