Audio Feature: Monica Kim (Shō No. 5)
praise: for the sisters putting on rubber suits for each other / praise: for preparing the day’s catch with soy sauce & pan-fried onions
submissions ARE OPEN
Established in 2002, revived in 2023
praise: for the sisters putting on rubber suits for each other / praise: for preparing the day’s catch with soy sauce & pan-fried onions
How quickly we adapt, water carving / a vein in earth.
Rolling fields kiss the edges of town, farmland / lying flat and fallow like the rest of us.
There's a certain surrender / to being an optimist—one which begins / with the day but, in fact, begins // with the evening.
a name is a pillar. a name is a post.
as abecedarian. Beehive. Corner cabinet, desk / detritus. Earthshine. Faultline. As gristle and gall.
I’m more broken than I’ve ever been. / This shell of a body, emptied / and longing.
The last night with my mother, I blinded like a snake in the blue, /
shed the skin of daughter and switched roles
we stumble through a forest / of awkward silences, careful not to touch // the brambles.
I can think of a few things more entrenched, / like language, syllables strung together // in a lilt
After all, what way is there to leave / a dance floor other than wet // & shaking under a mass of pleading / legs all huddled into a single moving // sacrifice—swaying tall & drowning / in bass?
The days have been heavy lately, /
an albatross on each shoulder