Karis Lee
Alone at Passing Period

Karis Lee - Alone at Passing Period

Poetry
Karis Lee is a middle-school teacher. Her work can be found in MudRoom Magazine and is forthcoming in Rogue Agent. She lives and writes in Washington, DC. Read more »
Jennifer Saunders
Deep Freeze

Jennifer Saunders - Deep Freeze

Poetry
Jennifer Saunders is the author of Self-Portrait with Housewife (Tebot Bach, 2019) and a Pushcart, Best of the Net, and Orison Anthology nominee. Her work has appeared in The Georgia Review, Grist,… Read more »
Abby E. Murray
Plans for the Afterlife

Abby E. Murray - Plans for the Afterlife

Poetry
Abby E. Murray is the editor of Collateral, a literary journal concerned with the impact of violent conflict and military service beyond the combat zone. Her first book, Hail and Farewell, won the… Read more »
Elizabeth J. Coleman
Stratagem

Elizabeth J. Coleman - Stratagem

Poetry
Elizabeth J. Coleman is editor of Here: Poems for the Planet (Copper Canyon Press, 2019), author of two poetry collections from Spuyten Duyvil Press (Proof, finalist for the University of Wisconsin… Read more »
Alison Zheng
What I Remember

Alison Zheng - What I Remember

Poetry
Alison Zheng's work has been published in Jacket2, Hobart After Dark, Honey Literary, Pidgeonholes, The Offing, and more. She's pursuing her MFA in Poetry at University of San Francisco as a Lawrence… Read more »

What I Remember

Alison Zheng

My Sanrio sticker friends: Keroppi, Pekkle, and Badtz Badtz Maru. My real friends: Nobody except our landlady from Hainan. Cooking on a portable hot plate. Drinking water from the bathroom sink. The Cambodian donut shop next door. Excelsior Library down the street. Chinatown Library on weekends. Dad’s first car: a Toyota Camry in Jolly Rancher Red. Shattered glass. Dad’s second car: A Buick that broke down on freeways. Dog-eared books inside pink plastic bags. Pretending I was shopping at the library. The multiplication table (sort of). Fractions (not at all). Care tags. Seam rippers. Our gray industrial Juki. Mom attaching collars onto J. Crew shirts. Speaking Hainanese. My parents saying, She’s going to forget it once we move. Forgetting it. Talking to myself. Waiting for Muni. A drunk white man following Mom and me home from 16th Street BART. How he kept calling her “leng lui.” How ugly Cantonese sounded when he spoke it. Realizing Cantonese was never a secret language between her and me. Realizing I can’t protect her from men like that. Moving house. Falling asleep to the sound of freeway traffic. Graffiti on our front door. Dad painting over it. The colors never matching after that. My…
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