Stories
Poem of the Week
It swims for a while, but abandons itself, slips from its own grasp.
Spring Contest Winners
We chose to stay in the brutality of that night, even as the girls walked away.
Fiction
We were in a play about affection. We were in a play about sex.
Fiction
“Now, just what brought you down all this way?” they wanted to know.
Fiction
“I’m in a Soviet tank in Siberia and I need to know if you know Nina Bowyer.”
Fiction
The pain lithified to numbness, and she recalled the time of his courtship.
Poem of the Week
We talked. She was the same inside as I am, from the same kind.
Fiction
The first time the world demanded more of me, I was twenty-nine.
Narrative Outloud
The people with pebbles go home to frolic under the detritus of the day.
Fall Contest Winners
I hear myself giving advice in my father’s voice: Take the emotion out.
Story of the Week
It takes a strong woman to make any sort of success in the West.
Fiction
Ma didn’t believe in slapping. It was what common people did.
Fiction
Joanie’s face was something she’d borrowed from Miró, from Picasso.
Poetry
Love cannot override what cells do in the nighttime of our bodies.
Story of the Week
My friend Angela, who is also my roommate, got me into stripping.
Poetry
I hold on to the shape of a star the way my aunts hold on to Jesus’s gown.
Fiction
I understood that for us there would be no mourning the shortstop.
Story of the Week
His looks were Russian. He was surrounded by mystery.
N30B Winners
When he kisses me, my heart flutters in my chest like swarming bees.
Nonfiction
What humanity needed was that gravity-defying miracle, the bird.
Poem of the Week
Sing so dogs bark, oxen bolt. Sing so a girl walks out on her lover.
Story of the Week
The tomatoes weren’t there. She looked again at the ground.
Poem of the Week
How smooth their bones, like alabaster shaved from moonlight.
Poem of the Week
The past, you hear it, the small hours, sucked down the undertow.
Poem of the Week
Old wives, I wish I could be one of you. Instead I am the born old maid.
Story of the Week
After nearly a year of dating, I never stopped thinking of that other boy.
