We take our chairs out into the sun where the small poodle can run laps round the bougainvillea or curl in the bowl made between the old lady’s bathrobed knees. I sit across from her as she strokes its furred skull with her freckled hands. She is delighted to tell me how the scorpion—tiny, genius …
For the moment, speech is paused.In the silence of the restaurant, we consider the orange flesh, sagittal as a stilledtongue, before placing it on our own.Like most forms of magic, I’ve always believed in words. For instance, the time you told meit was over. Not that what you’d saidwas true, but that by saying it …
To accompany our fall 2024 issue (21.2), we have curated a folio on writing about sex (reviews and craft essays) after noticing that several pieces in the print issue include sex, especially the play excerpt by Gloria Oladipo, John Fulton’s story “Emily Leaves Switzerland,” Karolina Letunova’s story “Turn Your Back to the Forest,” and poems …
Having nottouched myselfin some timeowing tothe erosionof incrementalsadnessesthat can detacha personfrom their bodyas cleanlyas a cliffis sheared froma coastline,the doctorinforms methat lovingmyselfis now myjob. So I take upmy own twofingers andwork them withthe seriousnessof earned saltand an imaginarysalaryinto the littoralcavern ofmy pussy. Andlike a wavethat sweeps theunsuspectingfrom the rockybreakwater,quite suddenlyeveryonewho has everfucked me isfucking meagain—mywife’s …