Sixteen Rounds of Chemo Sara Pirkle __________ After a nurse pluckedthe IV from my portlike a wasp stingerand the rubber-tire tasteof Taxol faded— After the victorypicture was snappedand posted onlinefor hundreds ofstrangers to like— After fake smilingwhile a chorusof nurses serenadedas I dutifully rangthe treatment bell— I sank into the…
Read MoreMayank Manchanda Mayank Manchanda is a writer based in Lake Charles, Louisiana, and is an MFA/MA candidate at McNeese State University. He originally hails from India and his work has appeared in ‘The Medley’ and ‘Riding the Summer Train’: a poetry anthology by Delhi Poetry Slam publications. More of him…
Read MorePost-Modern Polonius Anne Babson __________ “Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell” – William Shakespeare Polonius stabbed behind tapestry — But audiences don’t mourn his murder. Hackneyed speeches are the real travesty. Today, when prose is cannon fodder, “There is nothing outside the text.” It bores, Bereft of meaning, say Doctors.…
Read MoreRachel Pittman is an MFA candidate at McNeese State University where she serves as Poetry Editor for the McNeese Review. Her writing has appeared or is forthcoming in miniskirt mag, Stillpoint Literary Magazine, Gingerbreadhouse, Whale Road Review, & Grimoire Magazine.
Read MoreAbbie Skinner is an MFA/MA candidate at McNeese State University. Originally from Southern California, Abbie has spent more than half her life living in New York and abroad. She is happy to have settled in Louisiana for now, at least until her next adventure takes her someplace else. Her writing…
Read MorePumpkin Ash and Cypress Knees Katherine Quevedo __________ Bald cypress thrusts its knees in knobby little spires just above the waterline. Pumpkin ash bulges at the base of its trunk, engorged with brackish drink. By moonlight, I can almost discern the red spikes of cardinal flowers craning their necks alongside…
Read MoreFeu-Follet Danelle Lejeune __________ This trace is what’s left of us. Look for the weight of light, the particles falling down like crumbs. The mass of the universe is choking, leaving lines, chain burns, in my flesh. These pieces of you, pieces of me, we are stardust. The music of…
Read MoreLore of Swamp Girl Ryleigh Wann __________ LORE OF SWAMP GIRL I wasn’t always this wretched. Men paint me up when they talk outside the shaken down juke joint, drunk off warm whiskey, drool pooling from snarled teeth: the woman who hides in the swamp off the Delta— murky with…
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