Current Issue

“Split” by Francine Witte

The day is slowing to a shiver now, slowing and blacking into night and that’s when your father comes home, hole in his soul, and says things like supper and bitch, and your mother slams back you’re late, you’re late. And you, you are standing there, not knowing which way to turn, and the anger that was floating like daydust…

“Fat Man” By Andrew Stancek

Tonight I am in the park alone. Ma has been slamming cupboards, sweeping, scrubbing the small fridge, muttering.  She used to work six days in Friesen’s Bake-o-Rama, and was never around. But when she did come home, she’d open a beer, give me a sip, and tell stories about Lin and Manuela and Crazy Carmen and the other women.  Then…