Forum Magazine
-
Images by Catherine Chang
Green, the color of the train was green, dark green. In a dream, the green is there. A flood of green is in the dream, a flood of dark green, a dark and perplexing and greedy green. The dream is unexpected, but not entirely frightening. The flood of green in the dream is all I…
-
Redneck Daiquiri by Christopher Williams
On summer days you could find Stella Antoinetti panhandling in front of 7-11 for beer and smokes. She wore a dozen or so jangly bracelets on each forearm and sang to herself to pass the time. Sometimes, if the song was coming out just right and she was coming up on her favorite part, she…
-
It Happened in Summer by Ron Chapman
“Mel. Mel. Melody. Wake up. Wake up!” Jo tapped Mel’s leg with an insistence that made her want to boot him out of bed and into next week. Then she remembered she loved him. “What the fuck, Jo? Damn. I was dreaming.” “What were you dreaming about.” “I don’t … I can’t remember. Damn.” “Sorry.” …
-
Gravediggers by Anna Nicole Torres
A lantern bobbed in the fog enshrouding St. Joseph’s Cemetery. The chilled air was thick with the smell of rain and rot and in the gloom of near-dawn headstones emerged from the mist as jagged, crumbling gray isles overridden with moss. Two men, disparate in height and expression, plodded across the soggy grounds with shovels…
-
Tarnished Lace by Eden Metzger
I realized I never truly knew my mother. I knew she plucked pieces of lavender and orange blossoms from our backyard and folded them into her white dresses. When she whisked me into her arms I used to press my rosy face into her linen shoulders, just so I could smell her springtime scent. I…
-
Eora, Ramaytush, English by Rachel Chalmers
Eora, Ramaytush, English1 by Rachel Chalmers Mungi, wilkawarep, lightning, Burra, rinnimi, sky, Murungal, pura, thunder, May, hiin, eye. Darrabara, puuhi, daylight, Minak, muur, night, Biyanga, ‘apaa, father, Dyirra, laskainin, white. Wiyanga, ‘anaa, mother, Mudjil, chitkote, red, Mudung, ‘ishsha, living, Gugun, hurwishte, dead. 1 Eora, or Dharug, is the original language of the Sydney region of…
-
Nepantla by Fernanda Vega
When crippled with otherness: I celebrate our differencesWhen treated like a stranger: I embrace our humannessWhen provoked with rupture: I tend to my mother CoyolxāuhquiWhen disjointed by oppression and pain: I appease in my bodymindspiritWhen told that I don’t belong ni aquí ni allá: I bury my roots in the interstitial space, in nepantla. Because, yes, I…
-
The Cup of Trembling Saramanda Swigart
The sunset is made of gold. It is made of gold, the sunset, this sunset. made of gold—-pure gold spills down the mountainside and I kneel before the mountainside’s golden spread Kneel on the stone and burn this image into my forsaken brain, sear gold onto my retinas, behind its sackcloth consciousness (made of gold…
-
Ghost Species by Jillian Wasick
We were wrong to spurn the Neanderthals. Too fast we followed the first man who cried savage, his fingers pawing skull, and the scientists who nodded yes without looking side to side. I read this in a magazine left open, an issue from last year, when we still closed our days with the same turquoise…
-
The Singer by Shannon Wolfe
Alan’s songs still echo from the basement of the house. Gingerbread, pink, sweating like an old southern Baptist lady in the forever sun. The willows on either side fanning, their shade more illusion than testament. Gil speaks to me in the quietest tones as I make my way up to the tired porch, painted icing…
Forum Literary Magazine 