THE FAMILY STONE by Catherine Norris

/ / Issue 24


There’s a boulder in the living room.
It blocks the view of the tv, 
depending where you sit 
by which I mean, unless you sit 
on it or in front, which isn’t 
comfortable and renders 
the soft of the sofa 
impossible. 

Sometimes, when we sit 
on it, we can forget it’s 
there. We sit and laugh 
and lean into a fall or at least 
the sudden hardness 
of stone. 

With no room for a tree
at Christmas, we decorate
it, tinsel and lights,
then we sit and watch 
the soft glow of it, 
benign blushing 
of a miracle child. 

Like a standing 
stone, quietly, we question 
how it got there in the first 
place, too heavy, 
no doorway large enough, 
no holes in the ceiling 
and not organic.

No one can remember 
it growing, 
too established, 
like it’s got roots here
that might stretch 
to a fiery core, 
somewhere we might die 
if we follow them 
to the end. 

POETRY

EVERY SEVENTEEN YEARS CICADAS RUPTURE THE EARTH by Hannah Corrie

A STORY ENDING WITH AN OFFERING by Willie Lin

TWO POEMS by Meredith Nnoka

TENDING GRIEF AT THE GREAT SALT LAKE, A RITUAL by Kathryn Knight Sonntag

WHOEVER IS NOT HOME GROWS SICK by David Keplinger and Bruce Bond

AFTERMATH by Robert Wood Lynn

LOVE POEM WITH A MAGGOT INFESTATION by Janelle Tan

TWO POEMS by Helena Mesa

ROAD TO BYBLOS by Medeleine Cravens

IN THE HALL OF THE MOUNTAIN KING by Majda Gama

THE FAMILY STONE by Catherine Norris

FICTION

MEMORY FIELDS by Liz Howey

THE LEAST AMERICAN FACE by M. Y. Li

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