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who’d have thought
your grandpa merle

would be the first to turn
into one of those

no-good pests, eating up
the neighborhood

like a june bug, sinking
his teeth into anything

with a pulse.
last night, i found

him in the garden,
tongue lolling

from his mouth,
flesh dangling

from his incisors,
blood dripping

on my begonias.

who’d have thought
a pair of gardening shears

would slice so smooth
through your grandpa’s

forehead.



Emory is a queer Cleveland-born writer currently living in Columbus, Ohio. With a few miscellaneous degrees under her belt, she now scoops gourmet ice cream for a living. When not writing, you can find her trying to keep her plants alive and daydreaming about giant alien robots.
Current Issue
3 Oct 2022

Lying in bed last night I felt fingers reach in, grabbing. I opened in spite of myself as you clawed me with your fingernails, flattened, panicked. Split throat, iron tongue, white masks ranged overhead, the rings on their fingers scraping me as they reached in to take you.
from my tower we climb, shroud as my veil. We leap on his fae steed
I tell smug Cyclops that I’m as gay as the next mutant, and that all mutants find themselves within battles
Get ready to feel hungry, because the theme for this quarterly roundup is food.
Friday: The Chosen and the Beautiful by Nghi Vo 
Issue 26 Sep 2022
Issue 21 Sep 2022
Issue 12 Sep 2022
Issue 5 Sep 2022
Issue 29 Aug 2022
By: Cat T.
Issue 22 Aug 2022
Issue 15 Aug 2022
Issue 8 Aug 2022
Issue 1 Aug 2022
Issue 18 Jul 2022
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