Dayenu

by Sara Merkin

Maybe if she could just let him plan a date. If he could plan a date. Maybe if she wasn’t so controlling. If he wasn’t so disorganized. If she could just trust his compliments. If he could learn that ‘your tits are amazing’ wasn’t enough to make her feel attractive. If she had the courage to ask for what she needed. If he didn’t put his needs first. Maybe if she wasn’t so afraid of being abandoned. Maybe If he wasn’t so afraid of commitment. Maybe if this wasn’t true for all the relationships she’d had, she could be happy.

Maria Jumps into a Big Blue Mouth

by Tiffany Farr

She nestled into the corner of the suitcase. Nose tucked under tail, trying to hide within herself. First day home from the rescue and learning her triggers. Who knew dogs could understand the concept of leaving? It’s possible permeance.

The motions of handling my jumbo-sized hard-scuffed suitcase, warmly named Big Blue, were fluid. I found unpacking a suitcase harmless, but the instinct etched into her body said Jump inside! Don’t be left behind!

Consider the body of a newly homed six-pound pup. The shaking and panting, pointed ears that don’t twitch when your mouth forms the words “Maria” and “Home.”

Wentwell

by G.J. Williams

Eyes pink veined, it was Wentwell alright. What formerly loomed now stooped, what had radiated now oozed. He seemed all overcoat. He took his plate of food and sat away from the others. Of all people. Mr Wentwell. Geography. He of the sly cigarette and extracurricular punishments. Keeping his eyes to himself.

The Award

by Johannes Springenseiss

After the committee handed her the Widows of the Revolution plaque and a manilla envelope containing cash that was more money than the annual salary of most of us, we could hardly wait until they left.

It was entirely up to her how to spend the money, after all grandpa had been one of the first martyrs of the uprising, and she herself had worked in various underground hospitals the entire time.

“First we’re going to buy new sturdy suitcases and waterproof boots for us. When the wind changes, we’ll have to get out of here in a jiffy.”

On Watching Lawn Maintenance Videos

by Tom Gadd

There are videos, now, of lawn vigilantes, who knock on the doors of houses where yard grasses are reaching toward fulfillment and tiny furred creatures find solace and insects dip themselves into the pollen of wildflowers and he watches as all that life is hacked and harassed with mowers and edgers and whackers. Watches abundance converted into easy geometry. Watches one lawn maintenance video after the next in his one-bedroom apartment. In the city he grudgingly moved to for work. Where the sight of a thistle hunkered in a sidewalk crack fills him with equal amounts of hope and despair.