miCRo: “A Young Woman Made Up of Dirt” by R. Cross
In this twist on a creation myth, R. Cross’s “A Young Woman Made Up of Dirt” explores self-definition and womanhood through the speaker’s musings on her formation and destruction.
miCRo: “It Is” by Danielle Badra
Every line of Danielle Badra’s contrapuntal poem “It Is” complicates what it means to speak grief. What is the form that can carry it?
miCRo: “The Man I Do Not Sleep With” by Daniella Toosie-Watson
The uniquely bright-blue sky, the grass, butterflies, and turtles in the poem are all part of a world that reimagines the typical relationship between lovers, but also between nature and the body.
miCRo: “Burger King was once home” by NaBeela Washington
At each level of poetic craft, Washington draws a stark contrast between the speaker’s deliberate reflections on home-making, on love, and other children’s frantic consumption in a fast food restaurant.
miCRo: “Mother” by SJ Sindu
By pairing repetition and lists as the narrative moves through time, Sindu forms a striking portrait of a mother-daughter relationship complicated by generational differences.
miCRo: “boysenberry marmalade” by JJ Peña
At the beginning of “boysenberry marmalade,” the nine-year-old narrator tells us about his Tía Nora’s new “atomic guts.”
miCRo: “White People Parenting” by Frances An
In “White People Parenting,” the observing speaker slowly realizes she is also being observed. … “Meanwhile, the baby stares at me—no, it’s staring at Noodles-Alfalfa woman, who is in turn watching me watch them.”
miCRo: “In Blue” by Shruti Swamy
Shruti Swamy’s “In Blue” captures a sense of shifting identity at the core of new motherhood.
miCRo: “Milkfish” by Danni Quintos
Danni Quintos’s “Milkfish” begins with the simplicity of a mother’s pregnancy craving for milkfish.
miCRo: “Bespoke” by Mee-ok
In vivid, tumbling language, this essay asks us to consider new angles—what it means to look up, to be looked down at, to navigate a world built for someone else’s eye level.
miCRo: “The Walking River” by Carl Lavigne
Carl Lavigne’s story “The Walking River” is a wonderfully unsettling portrayal of the natural world gone topsy-turvy.
miCRo: “Scales” by Ulrica Hume
In this layered space, we’re reminded of the slipperiness of loss and how jazz—as entertainment, as art—can intensify and ease the experience of grief.
