Wanting by Molly Beer
“Wanting” by Molly Beer The boy in purple moonboots thumps up to the gate howling “¡Mamí!” for hello. My boyfriend— “Mommy” to this orphan boy who knows no men—avoids my eye. We first came to this hogar, to Ecuador, to teach English: I want; you want; the boy wants; we all want. We were not expecting, or wanting, babies. We were not ready for such gaping need, for hunger at once wholly repulsive and...
At the Abortion Clinic by Katharyn Howd Machan
“At the Abortion Clinic” by Katharyn Howd Machan White poinsettias, drained of all their blood, adorn the waiting room table. Walk in, take a seat, pick up a magazine. On its cover pose a man and woman laughing into a book. Glance at the pictures on the walls. Study the frames, the webs of dust clinging to the corners. Near the window stands a Christmas tree draped with silver tinsel. You remember your...
The Ashsong by Kristi Carter
“The Ashsong” by Kristi Carter No fever brings the strange hands to place this bit in my mouth, it is the cold metal weight on my thin voice that brings me to fever. The sorrel waved its fleshy leaves at me as my sisters disappeared over the hill into the holler below. They are not the first to choose silence over change. Over the chance that an oratorio might burst forth from us with enough tremolo to hang...
Afterlife by Cassandra Lane
“Afterlife” by Cassandra Lane The Lynched Man’s Widow Mary feels the baby curling inside her, tighter and tighter, unbearable pain. She closes her eyes and prays for the coiled mass of limbs to dissolve. She and Burt had promised to raise this man-child together. Now, that Burt has been lynched, murdered, buried, his promises of a better future ring hollow. Mary wishes the fetus would stop feeding off her;...
Mother’s Wishbones, No Doubt by Ruth Sabath Rosenthal
“Mother’s Wishbones, No Doubt” by Ruth Sabath Rosenthal furculae with not a fragment of dried-up flesh or sinew to despoil their luster — the slew of them ranging in size from Cornish hen to turkey. Funny, I’d never noticed Mother extricate any, let alone strip them clean, secrete them somewhere long-forgotten. I stumbled across those old bones — took possession of the best of them, pried loose some of my own...
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Immersion Aug 29, 2025
