Love Letters to Vegas Sofía Margarita López Part I: Nevada From the bed of the truck where you and I sat, we saw the eyeballs roll across first. Except, from far away they didn’t look like eyeballs at all; they looked like golf balls surfing through the Nevada desert. “What’s that?” you asked, biting into…

Salome and Circe Jane Flett 1. Salome is leaden with routine. She drags a washcloth across the sticky kitchen counter and feels her arm snag. Another day has unfolded between these four walls, walls which never seem to crack or crumble, never swoon back into the soil, leaving the house—and her—agape. Salome doesn’t know what…

Notes to the Last and Second to Last Lover Sara Adams One I slept bad with you. I lived unpleasantly. YOU WERE THE FIRST THING IN MY ENTIRE HISTORY OF ENCOUNTERING OBJECTS—AND I DO NOT RESTRICT THIS TO PHYSICAL OBJECTS; I MEAN TO INCLUDE CONCEPTS—THAT I SIMPLY WISH HAD NEVER EXISTED. I am not a…

Obsidian Christie Wilson I haunt the people we were before, visit them often, stand close enough to hear them whisper things I can’t remember having said. I have my favorite moments, little excerpts I revisit, like the night you spilled beer on the bed. It just tipped over and foamed out in a brown pool,…