By Luna Lark

By Christine Sloan Stoddard

Editors' Note: This piece appears in the author's new book, Desert Fox by the Sea (Hoot 'n' Waddle). She also read it in this recent video. The piece first appeared in Horror Sleaze Trash, online and in its print anthology. ​

Before Tinder and Grinder and OKCupid, we had the East End Bridge. It was not a land of love but a land of fucks and you could give as many, or as few, as you wanted. But you came there to lie in a bed of used condoms, shit-covered leaves, and broken glass with one intention: to give, or receive, at least one fuck. Alcohol and drugs were merely appetizers, and the only restaurant you go to just for appetizers is TGI Fridays. All others either win or lose you with the main course.

Summer after summer, the East End Bridge boasted a loyal customer base. Even in the wintertime, you could find local kids embracing each other, panting little clouds of their warm live breath into the air, stretched out on a strip of cardboard if they were lucky.

A mediocre meal is better than no meal at all. Everybody’s got to eat.
​
Or, as my mom used to say, “Everybody’s got needs.”

By Luna Lark

By Luna Lark

By Luna Lark

By Luna Lark

By Ghia Vitale

​It’s a privilege
to be the place
where a cat sits.

By Julianne Fern Basile

Writer's Statement:  Julianne Basile is a proud parent from Northern Jersey. She draws her inspiration from the mystical, the magical and the just plain weird. Among her favorites poets are Neil Hilborn, Kahlil Gibran and Rupi Kaur. Her work has appeared in Plum Tree Tavern, The Stray Branch and Corvus Review.
​

By Ghia Vitale

Editor's Note: This poem is dedicated to Ali Thompson and Jude Valentin, two amazing fat creators.

When you’re fat and femme,
thin people call you “mean”
when you call out their bullshit
and don’t take kindly to their disrespect.

By Ghia Vitale

​Dear Unicorn Hunters,

My unicorn magic belongs to me.
Don’t even try to exploit it
for your pleasure.