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Word From the Editor

December 7, 2018/in Essays, Essays, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Kori Kessler, Issue 14: Winter/Spring 2019

“Like the mutability of social strictures in my lost and new homelands, my work embraces ambiguity and uncertainty,” Tatiana Garmendia writes about her portfolio Migrations. Garmendia’s work “wrestles with conflicting moral intuitions, with the personal and the historic.” Whether the medium is writing, painting, or even dance, the creative mind is driven to tell our […]

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Polar Nights

November 24, 2018/in DWM, DWM, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Megan Donnelly

It’s Monday at the top of the world. It’s morning, but the sun hasn’t risen in weeks. The elementary school where I teach is a fifteen-minute walk across the tundra and past the lagoon where Arctic swans glide during the brief summer season. In the fall, snowy owls fly overhead in the dusky morning hours […]

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Wulf & Eadwacer

November 24, 2018/in Gabo, Gabo / by Anonymous, translated by M.L. Martin

                                                                                                              […]

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Reimagining My City: Mixed Media

November 23, 2018/in Art, Art, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Farima Fooladi
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Sex Matters

November 23, 2018/in CNF, CNF, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Mark Hall

“Are you a slut, or are you just plain thoughtless?” I heard Mother shout from the top of the stairs. I was in bed. On the landing, just on the other side of my bedroom door, Mother was not visible to me, but I could see her clearly in my mind’s eye, clad in a […]

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We Were the New Era

November 23, 2018/in Translation, Translation, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Andreas Baum, translated by Catherine Venner

[translated fiction] Right at the beginning, at that very first meeting in the park, there were twelve of us, half of which I didn’t even know. There, upon that gentle slope behind the house, you could hear the fountains splashing and the trams squealing down Kastanienallee. It was the end of June and rather hot. […]

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Sasha Fierce asks ‘Why Don’t You Love Me?’

November 23, 2018/in Poetry, Poetry, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Immaculata Abba

Today I find comfort in the thunder’s holy growl. Hunger sometimes smells like petrichor: dead bacteria awakening our most primal sense to the promise of replenishment. All this while, I’ve been singing along: Honey, please try to understand it’s time to love your woman. Maybe it is time to make me your woman, to let the […]

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Hombrecito

November 23, 2018/in Winter-Spring 2019, Young Adult, Young Adult / by Melanie Márquez Adams

[fiction] I am a little man. That’s what Papi always says. Mijo, you are un hombrecito. That means that I must be strong, never ask for help and—very important—never cry. But my teacher doesn’t understand this and wants to know why I punched Manuel during recess. She says that I need to use my words […]

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Laundry Lessons

November 23, 2018/in Fiction, Fiction, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Jerilynn Aquino

We were the only Latinos on the wet side of town and the only power-washed house on the block. Ma reminded Pops to rent the machine every year. While Pops blasted strips of filth off our vinyl siding, Ma was inside spraying our dog with Febreze. She fixated on scorching everything clean. Ma was self-conscious […]

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Chicken

November 23, 2018/in Winter-Spring 2019, Young Adult, Young Adult / by Samuel Clark

I was putting on my uniform when I first got the news, my red polo that won’t stop smelling like chicken grease no matter how many times I wash it, and the lingering stink of waffle fries. I told Rosie she was on speaker ‘cause I was getting ready for work, and she said, “Baby, that’s why I’m calling, and I’m telling you right now, you’re not gonna like it.” Can’t pretend I wasn’t shocked.

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Q & A

November 23, 2018/in Poetry, Poetry, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Chaun Ballard

—Do you have a fear of losing people? I once rustled moonlight underneath the blanket and threatened to keep it. I unwrapped it slowly like sand loosed by waves, a child with one present come Christmas morning. —Do you feel that being black makes you a target? If shooting holes into darkness was not a […]

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How to Brew Tea for a Funeral

November 23, 2018/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Winter-Spring 2019 / by J.M. Ellison

Send one of your five sons out into the night to turn on the generator. Wait for its whir to wake the village. Strike a match and light the largest burner on the gas stove. Fill the gallon teapot to the brim. While the water simmers, reach for the canister of herbs. It is autumn, so select the za’atar, not the mint. Add the loose-leaf tea. Stir in sugar until it stops dissolving.

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Portrait of a Slave-Owner’s Wife

November 23, 2018/in Poetry, Poetry, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Aileen Bassis

Light folds around her       yellow-silk like a pillar-candle Shadows round her cheek             curve between lips press below her nose On her left a thickened impasto of fading paint and varnish layers obscure shapes and it’s hard to see a dark boy in blue livery bending brown skin      black hair   without a stroke of light to […]

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https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/lunch-ticket-logo-white-text-only.png 0 0 Jennifer Ly https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/lunch-ticket-logo-white-text-only.png Jennifer Ly2018-11-23 11:36:462018-11-28 08:13:56Portrait of a Slave-Owner’s Wife

Laura, Keeper of the Red Pandas

November 23, 2018/in Winter-Spring 2019, Young Adult, Young Adult / by Laura Gould

[creative nonfiction] Before I talk about Halloween and Corey Fisher and the two of us in the coat closet dressed as toilet paper mummies, let me start with Mom. Mom grew up in Chicago. As a teenager, she worked summers at Brookfield zoo. Head zookeeper of the petting zoo. All her stories from that time […]

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Again Undine

November 23, 2018/in Fiction, Fiction, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Devan Collins Del Conte

The house sat alone in a patch of swamp in a world her husband called Louisiana. When her son finally came to her there it wasn’t as she had expected. On the screened porch that looked out over the water, frogs called like poorly suited sirens under the midnight moon, and she crouched beside the […]

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Architectural Integrity & Aretha Franklin Has Died

November 23, 2018/in Poetry, Poetry, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Dalton Day

Architectural Integrity My floor could possibly be coming apart but I’m hanging on for now & for good reason Catastrophe should only be used as the name for a fragrance that only exists in a fictional universe One where a person starts every day with a montage full of clues I’ve spent the past week […]

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Plastic

November 23, 2018/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Corey Farrenkopf

[fiction] The dead body of a sunfish lies on the sands of Monomoy Wildlife Refuge. More than any other ocean dweller, sunfish are mistaken for sea monsters. It’s why two dozen tourists ring its pulpy white body, nearly a perfect circle with twin fins on top and bottom, stomach pecked crimson by hungry gulls. The […]

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Making Reubens

November 23, 2018/in Fiction, Fiction, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Teresa Milbrodt

In the tiny pop-up trailer we have two toaster ovens, a roaster full of meat, and a cooler with the rest of the sandwich fixings. It’s just enough to keep up with the line of customers. Mama has been wanting to make Reubens for the rodeo and powwow for three years, offering something different than […]

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Katie’s Songs

November 23, 2018/in Winter-Spring 2019, Young Adult, Young Adult / by Hannah Grieco

[fiction] Katie turned up her music and pressed her headphones against her ears. It didn’t help; she still heard her brother yelling in the hallway, pacing, slamming his fists into the bannister. He stomped up the hall, slammed twice, stomped back, slammed three times. Repeat, repeat. Until he stopped panicking. Until he exhausted himself. Her […]

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Mayhem—Arrival and Departure

November 23, 2018/in Poetry, Poetry, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Kiyanna Hill

Rally (n.) 1650s, originally in the military sense of ‘a regrouping of renewed             action after a repulse’ I confuse the armored buses for deliverance                a line of colored steel     some tarnished            some spit— shined  My surprise at this release of white bodies              Their flocking together Their delivery of          renewed action the guns hanging […]

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Magic

November 23, 2018/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Jose Francisco Fonseca

[fiction] Estoy corriendo on a dirt road feeling the right side of my face swelling up. Brittle and stiff mesquite se rodearon el camino. Trailers float on the mesquite milas aparte, solos, escuchando los vultures crowing as they circle. And montaña morenas stand silent squatting el cielo azul on their jagged backs. Oigo un grito and a […]

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Drought

November 23, 2018/in Winter-Spring 2019, Young Adult, Young Adult / by Chihye Naomi Kim

Since coming here, the bright red-orange of my skin has begun to fade into a washed out but stubborn stain. The gold of my eyes, too, has dulled to a yellowish brown. This place—they call it a school. We’ve been here almost a year now, and on my first day of class, as we sat in the rows of desks facing a woman with colorless skin and yellow hair, I raised my hand and asked, “Why is it spelled with an h?”

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In Champaign, Illinois

November 23, 2018/in Poetry, Poetry, Winter-Spring 2019 / by You Li

Up the stairs coiled around the hotel my new friend Frank and I are lamenting that there is no gym after all—he lamenting— I going along—at my door I half stick the key in, he asks again about how to iron his pants, I have these pants with a crease—he uses his hand to saw […]

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Bandar

November 23, 2018/in Fiction, Fiction, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Kailash Srinivasan

A beautiful man with a rich beard and a nose sharp enough to slice a tomato stood ahead of Viju at the Falafel cart. He looked a lot like the man he’d seen Gita with at the cinema house last week, his Gita, at least she used to be. Viju grunted before he could catch […]

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Ben Loory, Author

November 23, 2018/in Interviews, Interviews, Winter-Spring 2019 / Interviewed by Andrea Auten

Ben Loory is a good guy who writes great short stories. The end. If it were only that easy. Behind his smoothly carved stories, Loory revises and refines drafts sometimes for years before they’re finished. A few, he writes in one afternoon. His characters are compelling; nameless, often faceless, possibly mirrors of ourselves—even if ducks […]

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Our First Market Day

November 23, 2018/in Winter-Spring 2019, Young Adult, Young Adult / by Rachel King

[fiction] Dad and I move wicker baskets from our van to the tent. Dad’s jerking baskets too hard. Apples fall out and roll across pavement. “Strawberries go on the short table,” I say. He’d placed them on the higher table, where we put the jam display. “Move them then,” he grunts. He pulls out another […]

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Do You Wanna Dance?

November 23, 2018/in Fiction, Fiction, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Cynthia Sylvester

Dolores stood beside Ruth in the two-car garage, their polarized trifocals not yet adjusted to the darkness. Dolores wore a sun visor from the 2010 New Mexico Bowl game where the Lobos had lost miserably. Ruth had on her fishing hat with numerous fishing flies dangling from it. She was so tall and skinny she […]

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O’er the Fields

November 23, 2018/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Andie Francis

[creative nonfiction] It was true it was Christmas. It was my first day in Phnom Penh. My boyfriend bought our tickets for Cheong Ek, a genocide memorial site. Yes, perhaps I was an artist when I agreed. My boyfriend adjusted the headphones, his best friend took a Klonopin. The tour began with facts. A curator’s […]

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Elegy, yet again

November 23, 2018/in Poetry, Poetry, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Clara Paiva

Not a pyre, but a chimney, a beetle shaking mercilessly on top of my doormat to the sound of its own catharsis a tongue my neck both hands shaking exactly the same. My teeth as antenna & my cords wings Sing I watched a beetle die today; not a crate not a crypt not a […]

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irl

November 23, 2018/in Winter-Spring 2019, Young Adult, Young Adult / by Catey Miller

[fiction] January 1 Liz: Happy new year!!! Alyssa: Not yet here ☹ What’s the future like? Liz: Wild. People are leaving this party in hovercars. Pretty sure we just achieved world peace. We all have teleportation bracelets now. Alyssa: Great! So you can come celebrate with me? Liz: I wish! “Lyyyssaaa.” Isaac drops onto the […]

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Friday Lunch Blog

Friday Lunch! A serving of contemporary essays published the second Friday of every month.

Today’s course:

Behind the Eight Ball: How to Become Homeless in the Richest Country in the World

June 13, 2025/in Blog / Valerie Nyberg
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Meeting My Child Self at the Trauma Play

May 9, 2025/in Blog / Gale Naylor
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Products of Our Environment

March 14, 2025/in Blog / Mitko Grigorov
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Midnight Snack

Take a bite out of these late night obsessions.

Tonight’s bites:

Dig Into Genre

May 23, 2025/in Midnight Snack / Lauren Howard
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The dreams in which I’m (not) dying

April 25, 2025/in Midnight Snack / paparouna
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On The Map

March 28, 2025/in Midnight Snack / Ariadne Will
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Amuse-Bouche

Little bites every third Friday to whet your appetite!

Today’s plate:

Tale of the resistant apple tree

June 6, 2025/in Amuse-Bouche / Tahar Bekri, translated by Patrick Williamson
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Talyshi Wall Graffiti and other poems

May 30, 2025/in Amuse-Bouche / Ghazal
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we don’t spend our lives in the belly of the fish

May 16, 2025/in Amuse-Bouche / translated from French by Gabriella Bedetti and Don Boes
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School Lunch

An occasional Wednesday series dishing up today’s best youth writers.

Today’s slice:

I’ve Stayed in the Front Yard

May 12, 2021/in School Lunch, School Lunch 2021 / Brendan Nurczyk
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A Communal Announcement

April 28, 2021/in School Lunch, School Lunch 2021 / Isabella Dail
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Seventeen

April 14, 2021/in School Lunch, School Lunch 2021 / Abigail E. Calimaran
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Word From the Editor

The state of the world breaks my heart every day. Broken hearted, I stay online. I can’t log off. Because my career and schooling are all done remotely, I tend to struggle with boundaries regarding screen time, with knowing when to break away.

Like many of you, I have been spilling my guts online to the world because the guts of the world keep spilling. None of it is pretty. But it’s one of the things that, having searched for basically my entire life, I found that tempers the chaos that lives rent free inside my head.

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