Search

Issue #31






BAIT TRAP; Or, Caddisfly Kinnie Feels

Nora Hikari


Gooey little collector girl, bioindicator bottom, testing the waters for some kind of violence. Put me in a little hole full of gold bits and shiny rocks. I'm a practiced hand at picking up parts along the way, wrapping myself in the colorful trappings of it all, garbage second skin. I'll be whatever I want me to be. Cutting out anime girl panties from some ecchi show, pasting them on my ass, circling their big wet eyes and grafting them into empty sockets. Nothing tastes as good as kinnie feels, everything fits fine when you're written on paper. I'm not a girl I'm Tomoko Kuroki and Akemi Homura and Vriska Serket and a funky little worm-baby wiggling my ass in the air like a real kind of fuck-you. Ooh, hon, I need a big ole trout to come save me from drowning, put me whole in your mouth and swallow my pointy little hooks.


Genderplay monsterfucker looks like this: fake fangs in bed, fuzzy little catgirl ears, vinyl devil wings plastered with sweat. Meow. I'm a half-demon nekogirl and I want your name and your face and the knock of your hips. My girlsona is your graduation photo. Kinning "trap" with my whole chest; all yawning and teeth waiting for ankles. Like a snare twanging with thievery. Nothing of yours is safe. I'm crowdsourced botched carbon-copy bitch. I'm just like a parody. I'm caddisfly. Bury myself in all your favorite songs and I'll wrap myself in snagged lyrics for Tumblr headers. I'm your worst self drunk on dreamhead and Four Loko, shiny and ostentatious and somehow anti-artificial. I'm everything you wish without paying at all. I'm you in the morning when you're all gone. I'm the real-life girlkin. Swim away fishfins. I'm the best new you and I said no doubles.




Nora Hikari is an emerging Asian-American trans lesbian based in Philadelphia. Her work has appeared in Tealight Press, Feral Journal, and Dream Journal, among others, and her poem Deer-to-Fish Transition Timeline has been nominated for the Best of the Net award.








Salt, Thorns, Otis Redding, Why...

A Whittenberg


Salt without bread

Thorns on a cactus

Otis Redding, I miss you

Why didn’t you go Greyhound.




A Whittenberg is a Philadelphia native who has a global perspective. If she wasn’t an author she’d be a private detective or a jazz singer. She loves reading about history and true crime. Her other novels include Sweet Thang, Hollywood and Maine, Life is Fine, Tutored and The Sane Asylum.









I didn’t think I was old-fashioned but my wedding Pinterest says otherwise

Jaime Marvin


(after @johnmulaneybot)*


This is a eulogy. Could be a nursery, depending

(in ancient Greece, mourning women who lay daily

dirty with death still had to go home sometimes

to give birth). I just need help to

pry my swollen hands from this bed post.

I thought it was a parapet, and now I can’t sleep most nights;

in my nail beds and finger pads the blood’s gone too stiff.

Never used, my ring finger aches most—

she’s been itching for action since we were three,

maybe younger. That’s just how far back memories go.


You can imagine how hard this is for me, burying

myself, old scabs in soil I hope’s fertile

enough to re-grow me, or I hope you can.

There’s a joke Miranda and I trade:

but good madam! one-and-twenty and still unmarried?

to the convent with you, to cover screens, sew lace

til your knuckles crumble off

like so much char,


see, all I want is a lover,

I tell the women who insist on wrapping my heart in gift paper,

like it deserves to be welcomed

flush-cheeked, quick-pulsed,

warm-palmed,

they clear their throats,

tell me there are other ways to be solid,

and I say yes,

I know,

but I want this one.


*Note: This first line is in part pulled from a December 9th, 2018 tweet by @johnmulaneybot (a Twitter account which creates randomized lines based on the standup of John Mulaney). https://twitter.com/johnmulaneybot/status/1071951401788542976

The tweet reads: “This is a eulogy. Could be a nursery.”




Jaime Marvin is a writer, comedian, and tarot reader based in Brooklyn, New York. She has work upcoming in Sublunary Review, and is currently plotting a novel about high school cross country, teen witches, and pasta-related angst. You can find her compulsively rewatching Practical Magic, and if that fails, she is also sometimes found at @jaime_marvin on Twitter or at jaime-marvin.com.