Category: The Last Word

Fiction: “1,000 Ghosts” by Diana Clark

He insists on lying down. Dr. Greenwood tells him, “That’s only in the movies, the couch part; you’re more than welcome to sit up,” but then she remembers how much he loves movies, his Air Force One comment from 2015, remembers Harrison Ford in his interview on Studio 10, and decides not to push the…
Flash Nonfiction: “Sportsball Commentary” by Ann Petroliunas

Pay attention, ref! The men in this basement have proven 1476 times that they possess the vocabulary to be outraged. The men in this basement scream obscenities at toy figurines on television screens sitting next to women who have other reasons for screaming. Our cries of outrage sound the same to this soccer game. The…
Poetry: “here, in my body” by Bianca Phipps

the process of getting an IUD wasin no waywhat I would call fun I can only describe it as reverse birth, except!with something very cold & metal & a fraction of the size of a human baby. (don’t let this be misleading.something the fraction of the size of a human babydoes not make it less…
“Dreamland Grandma Patch Notes Updates V 1.1,” a poem by Cori Bratby-Rudd

This update enhances the compatibility of Grandma with other programs. It will henceforth be renamed “Dreamland Grandma.” It is recommended for all users. Restart required. Based on user feedback, increased source material of queer texts/knowledge Decreased speech ability Decreased ability to comment on fashion choices Increased desire for generosity Deactivates critical capacities in regards to…
Two Pointed Objects, visual poems by William Lessard

*Ed.’s Note: click images to view larger sizes. Fig. 12: Diagram for High-Capacity Automatic Rifle Fig. 16: Remote Control William Lessard has writing that has appeared in McSweeney’s, Brooklyn Rail, Hyperallergic, Prelude, FANZINE. His work has also been featured at MoMA PS1. He co-curates the Cool as F*** series in Brooklyn and is Poetry Editor…
“Slumroom,” a story by Stephanie Jimenez

At his insistence, Marisa’s father accompanied her to the prospective apartment off Northern Boulevard. It was September, and on the way there, they got caught on a side street behind a school bus. They didn’t know the cause of the hold-up until they saw a veiled figure run down the sidewalk and up to the…
Essay: “Dinner with Trump and the Art of (Im)potent Rage” by Janet Mercel

My niece brought her boyfriend back east last summer to meet all of us. He was sweet and placid and quiet enough that I wasn’t sure he was paying attention until he’d had enough cocktails to loosen his lips. Later in the evening he told me how intimidated he’d been to be presented to the…
Fiction: “My Father’s Great Recession” by Alex Kudera

Fierce rains pour from black clouds, and when at last we meet in the parking lot, I see an obese and aged semblance of Dad. He wears a blonde mustache, but his receding topsoil is corn-silk white. Beige slacks and a light blue sweater do little to mask his immense roundness. Three hundred pounds or…
Three Poems by Anne Champion

How Capitalism Breathes Through a gas mask/ in a uniform/ hurling tear gas/ with a chokehold/ elbow cocked like a gun/ deep inhale/ holding its breath/ ducking for cover during a mass shooting/ the aroma of factory chimneys smells like money/ through a gas mask/ does blood smell like power/ drop the noose/ drop the…