“crickets, tell me that” by April Yu
the night has not stolen the taste and shape of my grass-drowned flesh. after all, your croaks already drink the air from my lungs until …
The Metaworker Literary Magazine
Where great stories are forged.
the night has not stolen the taste and shape of my grass-drowned flesh. after all, your croaks already drink the air from my lungs until …
When I greet “semi-strangers,” sometimes strangers, with Hellos and How-Are-Yous you say they do not warrant, it’s because of Physics, and the empty seat that …
I have no hair atop my head but if I did it would be like yours and I’d wash it brush it out and take …