Posts by twocities

From Issue 17: In the Wake of the Storm, When Snow Had Reached the Rooftops

Rodney Torreson


my brother Dean crawled
through the bathroom window
and carved a path to the door.
Later, while father dug for the tractor
and loader, we cut channels so high
through the white,
that from the house to the barn
and to the pig pens and beyond,
birds winged through them
as daylight reveled,
marbling the maze’s walls.

The goodwill of neighbors
after such a storm
brushed not only us but the spirit
of the cattle and hogs—
the horses as well—though,
if any livestock
cleared snow,
we never saw it. Yet time and again
they leaned in, …

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From Issue 17: My Dark Whistle

Charles Kell

starts to hum
this way when my belly
full of glass
becomes unbearable.

The grey wrens fly
fast into the near-
est dark hole
& your pretty mirror

dissolves into a float-
ing pile of wet sand.
The only way
to make me stop

is to nail a pencil
to my hand. The sky
starts to crack
when I lick my lips.

Quick, the hammer.


Charles Kell is a PhD student at The University of Rhode Island and editor of The Ocean State Review. His poetry and fiction have appeared in The New Orleans Review, The Saint …

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From Issue 7: Yellow



Catherine Flora Con

The night Luke first disappointed his father, the house looked formidable despite its peeling yellow paint.  Already there were sandbags against the door in case the hurricane hit, though it wasn’t supposed to come until Thursday and even then it would just be rain.  He turned the key in the latch and the first thing his father said was, “Lock the door.”

Luke did, and his father jiggled the knob to check it himself.  In the living room, Luke sat on the couch with his elbows on …

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Call for Submissions: Scary Stories for Fall Issue

Readers, we’re excited to open the submission gates for a special themed issue arriving September 2018. We want your ghost stories, your phobia stories, your psychological creepers — basically anything about fear, whether from external or internal sources. As always, we want stories, essays, and poems that challenge the boundaries of genre and transcend their forms with stunning writing. Check out our Submittable page and submit your best scary stories today! Because we need time to assemble the issue, we’ll be reading for this issue until mid-August. We can’t wait to read what you’ve got!…

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Featured: After that Night

by Kat Delghingaro

Listen to the piece below:


You’re walking on a beach with your friend Ed and a stranger but she’s not really a stranger, she goes to the same school as you and you know she’s a nursing student, you know because she told you when you helped pass out condoms to freshmen at the HIV testing both and they flirted with her, complementing her nursing uniform. You never thought you’d be friends with a nurse, you tend to run with artist and actors but she has a cool tattoo of a lion on her …

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Featured: The Tao of Barbour County

by L. Ward Abel

Listen to the poem below:


L. Ward Abel, poet, composer and performer of music, teacher, retired lawyer, lives in rural Georgia, has been published hundreds of times in print and online, and is the author of one full collection and nine chapbooks of poetry, including Jonesing For Byzantium (UK Authors Press, 2006), American Bruise (Parallel Press, 2012), Little Town gods (Folded Word Press, 2016), and Digby Roundabout (Kelsay Books, 2017). “The Tao of Barbour County” is from Digby Roundabout.

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From Issue 16: The Visitor

Brittany Ackerman

Duncan Leeds used to go to my school, but transferred when his dad got a promotion and his mom wanted a house in Wellington Gardens, a house that had an elevator and a trampoline in addition to the standard two stories and a pool for Florida mansions.  Wellington was thirty minutes away from where I lived in Boca Raton, and in Florida time, that was a whole other world.  He was my first real boyfriend, even though we only saw each other on weekends.

“I love you,” Duncan said on the phone.  It was late, past eleven o’clock …

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From Issue 16: Winter Solstice

Noorulain Noor

The moon, only a half-arc wafer,
and the darkness discordant
with rush hour traffic.
This throng of lonely souls,
in accidental communion with each other,
their heartbreak heavier than night.
Together, we wear a shroud of invisibility
under the same barren stretch of sky,
inching along the same patch of road
amidst the sinusoidal symmetry of hills —
sentinels of many other sorrows.


Noorulain Noor is a member of the Community of Writers at Squaw Valley and a two time Pushcart Prize nominee. Her poetry has appeared in Spillway, Sugar Mule, Santa Clara Review, Muzzle and other …

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Featured: June 19, Palais de Rei

by Sean Denmark

A field disgorged,
to the bishop led there
by a star, a saint’s
remains, a shallow
to attract ever more
distant folks until
the catchment of
St. James’s bones
engulfed kingdoms
& more & more
farmers along the way
battled shortcuts
through their wheat.
Pilgrims attract coins
& miracles attract
pilgrims & a solid
miracle—a healing, say,
of some medieval’s
blindness—could sprout
a little chapel along
the path its wings, to flourish
& to crow, till some
fresher miracle erupted
somewhere, draining off
the blessing seekers.
Whoever has will be
given more & whoever
doesn’t have, even …

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Featured: Good Luck with Your Hobby (excerpt)

Holly Coddington

Olu thinks it’s funny how hard white people try to avoid calling someone black.
It is normal to have no faith in the justice system
And nice to be surprised
Although that is not what happened today.
I go to the Bronx in my best white guilt
Convinced everyone black hates me. Why not?
Just the other day I was walking Charlie
And a black man approached me quickly
With his hands in his pockets.
I was scared.
Charlie wasn’t scared.
Charlie sniffed a bag. Ayanna gives me a ride to
The train station because it is dark …

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