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Past Issue

Cover Image: What is all this fluffiness? by Justin Currie
Fall 2017, Volume 38, No.3
Volume 38, No. 3, Fall 2017
This issue, we check out "The Next Wave" of literary talent by featuring the work of writers 30 and under! Also featuring new work by Andrew Boden, John Pass, Claire Kelly & more!

Table of Contents

Gerald Arthur Moore—Three Poems
Andrew Boden—I’m Still Willa Carmichael
John Pass—Deer
Darius Kinney—Three Poems
Sandra McIntyre—English as a Decorative Language
Degan Davis—Theatre
Neil Surkan—Vesper
Angela Rebrec—Raven Stole Seagull’s Story
Renée M. Sgroi—Untitled
Claire Kelly—Every Dusk, Mothertongue. Mothertonguing Every Dusk.
Hannah Green—Two Poems
Kirsti Salmi—Passenger
Alison Braid—Two Poems
Tamar Rubin—Two Poems
Carly Rosalie Vangergriendt—Resurfacing
Genevieve Zimantas—Two Poems
Ellie Sawatzky—Garage Sestina
Michael Russell—Acceptance
Heather Fraser—Volta
Nicholas Bertelson—Hospice Choir
Hollie Adams—Talking About the Weather
Laura Cok—Tide Over
Conyer Clayton—Home
Marika Prokosh—Birdwatching for the Visually Impaired
Sarah Ens—Each September We Went to See the Geese
Amy Leblanc—Charlotte
Melissa Weiss—She Builds Her Eulogy
Melanie Power—An Elegy for the Linden Tree
Anny Tang—Dry Land
Kelly Stewart—Bubble Tea



Hollie Adams
Andrew Boden
Sandra McIntyre
Kirsti Salmi
Carly Rosalie Vangergriendt


Nicholas Bertelson
Alison Braid
Conyer Clayton
Laura Cok
Degan Davis
Sarah Ens
Heather Fraser
Hannah Green
Claire Kelly
Darius Kinney
Amy Leblanc
Gerald Arthur Moore
John Pass
Melanie Power
Marika Prokosh
Angela Rebrec
Tamar Rubin
Michael Russell
Ellie Sawatzky
Renée M. Sgroi
Kelly Stewart
Neil Surkan
Anny Tang
Melissa Weiss
Genevieve Zimantas

Fiction Excerpt
English as a Decorative Language
BY Sandra McIntyre

“Let me show you.”
Mr. Sasaki scowled but grabbed an object from the receptionist’s desk and thrust it through the open window.
“One time chance!” he barked.
It was a personal-size pack of moist towelettes, the kind Miriam kept in her purse and pulled out at the movie theatre for wiping popcorn grease off our fingers. The pack was open, the “magic seal” sticker coiled into a tight, useless curl.
The fresh sting of the alcohol in my nose.
(Holding hands in the comfortable darkness.)
The fresh sting of the no.
I swallowed the delicious poison of the memory.
“Decorate,” Mr. Sasaki said, slamming down hard on the difficult “r.”
The pack crinkled in my grip. The words spilled out of me, poetry from the deeps: “Enjoy Your Surprise of Life!”
Mr. Sasaki smiled without looking happy. “You start as junior decorator. Monday.”

Poetry Excerpt
BY Heather Fraser

Returning home, as if anyone could live in that grief.
I understood heartbreak.
I was wrong when I thought

I was too young.
It was a crack of lightning breaking August heat.
It was radio static through my core.