MICRO

Donut

By HALLIE BEARD | 20 JUN 2022

By Viviane Sassen — Photo by Stephen Arnold

I hiked up my waist     in a storm        the counter
top       hard     the pad of a first finger to Cupid’s
dumb hill         my teeth wet         the sky
sick      bent over         the countertop                  dripping
some cloud sucked          my teeth dry

The sky
Sometimes she wears a gloss

Hallie Beard holds an MFA from The University of Mississippi and is a Louisville, Kentucky native. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Bayou Magazine, CutBank, Poet Lore, and elsewhere. You can find her teaching English and making quilts in Kentucky, or on the other side of the river in Southern Indiana, where she lives with her partner.

MICRO

Portrait of My Dad the Self-Taught Weatherman with Hammer Blackened Nails and Grito

By ALEJANDRO LUCERO

He reads

us promises off a teleprompter.

MICRO

[So,]

By LOGAN WEI

you say that some things are most lit,
most magnificent and vivid,
like, right before they have to die.

MICRO

Dream as Delilah Lampshade

By BEN TOGUT

"I am invincible, my body a quiet kind
of violence."