[Her] Pre-existing Condition, Part ii by Lindsay Parnell Roach, foulest of creatures, who attacks with yellow teeth and an army of cousins big as shoes, you are lumps of coal that are mechanized and when I turn on the light you scuttle into the corners and there is this hiss upon the land. Yet I know you are only the common angel turned into, by way of enchantment, the ugliest. “Cockroach” by Anne Sexton On 12th and Market at midnight […]

The Exhibition by Lindsay Parnell “It’s a waste, lager like that—I’ll make something good for you,” says the barman from Kilkenney whose face and voice and hands are hero handsome like Peck, before her gaze settles above the fold: