Lit Issue 2017 | Prose

Michael Jordan

i.
The night Michael Jordan scored over Bryon Russell, clinching our sixth championship, defeating the Utah Jazz for the second consecutive year, burying the final shot he’d ever take for my favorite team, I thought it was impossible for the Chicago Bulls to ever lose. I was ten years old then, wearing a huge old T-shirt of my dad’s the color of a blue highlighter as pajamas, jumping up and down in our TV room, beside myself that the greatest thing that could possibly happen had happened again.

Holiday Issue 2015 | Poetry

The Bus

Picked us up at the same spot every time,
near the teacher’s parking lot behind the school,
where the girls would file in, sometimes loudly,
sometimes quietly, past the same driver, Ed,
who would smile wide while starting his speakers.

Fiction

Braids

Zelda Galewsky

The wind is blowing out front of the church. Mexican women are setting up makeshift flower tents. A sign on the door says, “Los Globos no son permitidos adentro de la iglesia.” Beneath that, it reads, “No balloons allowed in the church.” In between, an uneven hand has scrawled “Class of 2014.” The swear word that came next has been scribbled out.

Poetry

Maybe This is the Summer

Vanessa Valadez

Maybe this is the summer I rollerblade backwards
the summer I ride my bike with no hands
the summer I throw a curveball
the summer I find those last six stars in Mario 64
Maybe this is the summer

Fiction

Sue

Sue is the largest and most complete Tyrannosaurus Rex ever discovered. She is forty-two feet long and thirteen feet tall. Her skull weighs six hundred pounds. She weighed nine tons, when she was alive. She was discovered by Sue Hendrikson, for whom she is named.

Fiction

Callie

I asked my six-year-old cousin for her autograph today. She didn’t know what an autograph was. “Your name,” I said. “I want you to write your name.” I handed her my pen. “What for?” she said, and then, “Okay.”