Winter Issue 2025
Swallow
Angelina Randazzo Angelina Randazzo is a School of Communications sophomore majoring in RTVF and minoring in Art Theory and Practice.
Like the Back of My Hand
Greta R. Cunningham My mom would like us to be more similar. She grasps my hands, lining up our fingers like a palimpsest, tracing what she claims to be the twin arcs of our nail beds. My mom would like us to be more similar, but her genes didn’t really stand a chance. Blue eyes.… Read More Like the Back of My Hand
LUCA (Last Universal Common Ancestor)
Note: The italicized lines are directly borrowed from Alexis Pauline Gumbs’ book Undrowned: Black Feminist Lessons from Marine Mammals. Roy Zhu Bringer of light; root of a sacred tree your names multiply as you turn out the roundness of this world. I see you dreaming spirals; nebula; the palimpsest beneath my lover’s palm; machine code… Read More LUCA (Last Universal Common Ancestor)
Gifts from My Father
Natalie Antonia May The gift of life, to start, though he didn’t play as big a role as my mother. He kind of just signed the card. A puppet from wherever he traveled for work. A Hedgehog from England. A Wombat from Australia, which married my American Porcupine. They had several, cross-breed, dual-citizenship babies. One… Read More Gifts from My Father
Bois Caïman
Elijah Elvin wood of gators, herbed in ginger, limestone peaks, vetiver rain-kissed, a mist’s night in pearled antilles deepens your devotion, keeps your heart open. To the ocean Boukman looks, west the enslaved strike to be unbroken. Lespwa fe viv Lespwa fe viv The bell rings at the sun’s set, the Creole pig ceases its… Read More Bois Caïman
Trini Girl
Cheyenne Anjali my people identify themselves by the sea. they are always interested in the non-black parts of me. the baby soft hairs of my growing unibrow, beauty marks scattering across my skin like stardust dark curls twining around themselves like lovers, pink lips longing for tamarind sauce and callaloo, brown skin like mangoes, sweet… Read More Trini Girl
Pássaros Caindo
Francesco Thorik-Saboia Francesco Thorik-Saboia is a photographer from Jersey. Likes bossa nova. Likes red wine.
Corazón Partido
Mauricio Audirac mi alma es dos two halves mi corazón se parte a la mitad cut deep by a machete no sé quién soy, mexicano o a gringo chicano or latino serán mejores las memelas o a nice juicy cheeseburger toma el jugo del agave drink a nice cool tequila corre, corre para estados unidos… Read More Corazón Partido
Church Avenue and East 34th Street
Elijah Elvin Where is time spared to make change? Is it as seconds become less & less & not many, in a reach for life that is so minute yet so fickle? Or will it be before our skin turns to grime– And doomsday’s vessels trickle? Shall we be the weak that forever stays shorter?… Read More Church Avenue and East 34th Street
Midnight Michael, My Mother, and Me
James Frazier-Wilson It is nighttime, at the train station, a faded facade of concrete and metal. I can tell where the paint used to be bright, where the grimy steps used to be clean, what the stony pillars looked like before they were cluttered with missing posters and advertisements for yoga classes. It is ugly… Read More Midnight Michael, My Mother, and Me
