Latest Writing
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INTERVIEW WITH Stella Lei
Stella Lei is a writer from Pennsylvania and an Editor–in–Chief for The Augment Review. Rhythmic and resonant, her debut prose chapbook, Inheritances of Hunger (River Glass Books, 2022), is a vivid, thrilling collection featuring five stories punctuated by cruelty and intimacy as she interrogates generational hurt through the rawness of hunger and girlhood. Emily Judkins/Four…
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INTERVIEW WITH Robyn Creswell
Forthcoming from Farrar, Straus and Giroux this fall is the long-awaited collection of poetry by Iman Mersal, translated by Robyn Creswell, titled The Threshold. The author of five books of poems, Mersal is a highly acclaimed Egyptian poet and writer, currently based in Canada, where she teaches Arabic language and literature at the University of…
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QUEER NATURE ROUNDTABLE
In 2021, Four Way Review partnered with several other journals and presses to establish the Bootleg Reading Series. It was a partnership we hoped would continue to grow beyond the reading series and lift up the projects of each partner. We’re excited to share this conversation with some of the poets of the new Queer…
POETRY
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TWO POEMS by Rajiv Mohabir
In Sixteen Bridal Adornments You Come, opening to another. What cannot be carried from room to room? You line eyes in burned ghee cured under the full moon, …
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TWO POEMS by Caitlyn Klum
Heaven What I call Sissy Spacek time of day. Like an ink stain looming behind the live oaks. I was draping laundry over the porch railing to dry and pretty much thinking a wild piece of laundry in the sky. What about you? It disappears so quick in this heat or folds over. Otherwise…
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OCTOBER INTERVIEW with EDWARD SALEM
Edward Salem is a poet who hasn’t lost his sense of humor. “Palestinians,” he shares in our interview, “are insanely funny.” It’s this sense of humor that jumps off the page of Salem’s debut poetry collection, Monk Fruit, surprising readers, even as he’s tackling topics like the occupation of Palestine, American imperialism, torture, and genocide.…
FICTION
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QUARTO: Zion by Kate Lister Campbell
This summer, all the kids call themselves Zion. They come one by one and hang on the fence behind the backboard, then drift in until they’re standing under the basket, waiting for the rebound off my shot. Teams form by nods and dissolve at eleven or twenty-one, each of us…
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BIRD by Anjanette Delgado
The summer I became a bird —the very week, in fact— the meatpacking warehouse across the street turned into a dance club. At first, it was called “The Killing Room” and then, tall walls repainted to a sky blue, “Cielo.” I’d heard someone say that it had no ceiling, only skylights, and the idea…
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SILVER LINE by Christian Kiefer
I had been afraid of the cold silent body I held to my belly but when we at last reached the engine and clambered up the frozen metal ladder and into the relative warmth of the interior, the child jerked awake and began to wail, a thin, gasping sound that bit directly into my heart.…
TRANSLATION
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CHEWING BETEL NUT by Mark Dorado trans. Eric Abalajon and Mark Dorado
This mouth grows in it a forestborn from the spitof the godsof my land;chews a wildfirethat blackens the stumps of my teeth;hums the serenadeof our greatest hunters. This mouth can utter to lifethe many names of our ancestorsthe conquerors could neverwrap their tongues around,the ones they spat with regretas their teeth disintegrated,choking on the sharpinflections of the…
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THE GARDEN IS THIS GARDEN by Hélène Cixous trans. Beverley Bie Brahic
My days come and go, their almost motionless river is swept with traces, am I in the river’s current or on the edge? I see the shores of Lethe. The river repeats itself unchangingly, on and on, endlessly until we heave ourselves, the river and me, out. The garden is This Garden. This garden is…
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THREE POEMS by Álvaro Fausto Taruma trans. Grant Schutzman
CEMETERY OF THE DROWNED To my shipwrecked brothers on the island of Inhaca As your hymn hangs above the mouth of the castaway I call out your name, I call you with this tongue whose words are more than just a soft murmur, a sob, a liquid wound, a widow’s voice, an estranged orphanhood beyond…
From the Archives
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