Category: The Last Word

“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…
“Dear Dana Loesch,” an interactive poem by Rachael Shay Button

Dear Dana Loesch, Todaywhile you tweet,Parklandstudentsreturn:retrieve backpackscell phones,windbreakers,water bottles,chapstick,math books.Returnto classroomswhere they satsilentin supply closetseyes adjustingto darkears tunedto the soundof breathof shots. Dear Dana Loesch, You kept your kids away from public school homeschooled opposed testing standards wroteMamalougesabout raising your babies unrushed. Your children got to start slow lessons on the living room rug lunch…
Fiction: “Abortion Clinic, 2021” by Beth Fiset

We wait in rows along the walls until one of our names is called and we reshuffle. We wait seated in chair clusters. We wait huddled over one another to sleep for hours on end because we can’t help ourselves, though, we want to be awake when they call so we are not skipped over…
Essay: “The Mourning After” by Diane Payne

Hungover with sadness, shame, booze, and fatigue, I walked with the dogs to the park. This time of year, when it’s cold and the ground is wet, no one is at the park. But there he was: the man with the bike charging his phone at the picnic table pavilion. After exchanging morning greetings, I…