A Writer Reads

Aimee LaBrie

I confess that I am a chronic eavesdropper, especially on SEPTA, where you can overhear great personal tragedies in the time it takes you to travel from South Philly to City Hall.

Waterlogged

Alexandra Gold

We were throwing books in the river my Grandmother and I
in New Hampshire off a wooden bridge not quite Monet’s
surrounded by neighbors, hunters, schoolteachers

Vanish

Jonathon Todd

A formal apology for silence,

the emerging memory of places and scents,