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they came for me in springtime,
bound me in moss
circled around me so tightly
i couldn't breathe

they painted me green:
i began to photosynthesise

they said,
you'll grow to like it.
we cannot tell lies.
you will.

verdant crept up into my soul:
at the tips of my fingers white flowers bloomed
my hair turned to brambles
my skin to ashy bark

i wait.
imprisoned
coocooned

a small fairy, wandering through the glen, exclaims:
"oh look how sweetly blue that berry is!"
and reaches out to pluck my eye

i have no voice
nor stinging nettles

only the earth shudders through my roots.




Kit Hamada graduated from Wellesley College with a double major in Computer Science and English, and now writes code for a living. Her poetry and fiction have previously appeared in Liminality and 101 Fiction. She resides in Madison, WI with an assortment of hockey players and four-legged beasts.
Current Issue
25 Mar 2024

Looking back, I see that my initial hope for this episode was that the mud would have a heartbeat and a heart that has teeth and crippling anxiety. Some of that hope has become a reality, but at what cost?
to work under the / moon is to build a formidable tomorrow
Significantly, neither the humans nor the tigers are shown to possess an original or authoritative version of the narrative, and it is only in such collaborative and dialogic encounters that human-animal relations and entanglements can be dis-entangled.
By: Sammy Lê
Art by: Kim Hu
the train ascends a bridge over endless rows of houses made of beams from decommissioned factories, stripped hulls, salvaged engines—
Issue 18 Mar 2024
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Issue 4 Mar 2024
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Issue 19 Feb 2024
Issue 12 Feb 2024
Issue 5 Feb 2024
Issue 29 Jan 2024
Issue 15 Jan 2024
Issue 8 Jan 2024
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