The Man from the Egg

I had been just as surprised as one might expect when, at the age of ten, while making breakfast one morning, I cracked open what I thought was a normal chicken egg and found, covered in egg white, a tiny naked man—full head of hair, a Roman nose, strong tightly-muscled arms. So statuesque, lying prone in my mixing bowl.

Fiction by Michael Mau

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If that cross had a story, what would it be? / Copper wolves devouring my eggs, / or all my daughters raptured to nowhere?

Poetry by Meg Reynolds

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The reporters called and asked me: Did you know him? / I was his teacher, I said many times that day. Yes, I knew him.

Poetry by Martín Espada

for Jim Foley, journalist executed on video by ISIS (Islamic State of Iraq and al-Sham), August 19, 2014

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The Places You Go When You’re Alive

I walked into the kitchen and peered through the sliding door. Brad stood on the deck. The night had sucked him into a time machine that spit him back out looking more worn and tired than ever before. He rubbed his face and held a jack knife in his right hand. The kind my father used to carry when he hunted. The blade faced the outside of his thigh and he blinked wildly.

Fiction by Sarah Walker

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We’re the only ones we / race against, we think. We speak / in tongues. We know that family / matters most. Bang, bang. “What will / we have today?” we ask / when we serve at oily restaurants.

Poetry by Colin Criss

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