Issue 29 | Spring 2022 Blondness By Shawn Fawson | Poetry What is the half-life of a needle and thimble? My mother entered the kitchen with short, frosted hair and arms laden with pine twigs.
Issue 29 | Spring 2022 Inheritances By Shawn Fawson | Poetry More than once he died, the inside light behind him spitting up red. Already the maps dissolve like my mother going home, but showing up at the wrong house.
