ART of the Solar System #9
by Cody Schell
by Cody Schell
by Liam Hogan The orchard was merely a hundred trees. A hundred and twenty, counting the malus sylvestris—crab apples—that fringed the sides. “Why so many?” I asked, shivering in the February cold. Old crones made hedgerow jelly from the stunted apples, despite the wince-inducing tartness, despite their size,
by Gull Ditta The villagers called her Mehnaz, a name borrowed from the river that refused to keep her. She knew herself as a sequence of sensations: the prickle of dry earth between her toes, the pressure of a monsoon cloud, the shimmer of starlight caught in a still pond.
by Cody Schell
by Andrew Kozma I did not want to be attending the living memorial service for my mother, but there I was, the spiritual officer’s voice droning on like a TV left on in another room. My mother was in a coma, kept on life support for only pennies on