A story by Leslie Blanco (fiction, ‘07) appears in The Coachella Review:

Havana, Cuba
December, 1960

Alejandro Bravo was twelve when he first saw her from the window of a bus. She was underneath the canopy of laurels on the Paseo del Prado, no cameras or reporters around her, as if she was a normal person like everyone else. White dress. Platform heels. Chin-length, platinum-blonde hair curled back and reflecting the sun. He pressed himself against the window and craned his neck. The bus was stuck behind truck after truck of farm workers being brought in for a rally at the Plaza de la Revolución. CUBA SÍ, YANQUI NO! That’s what the workers were already yelling, and he felt ashamed that she was hearing it too. She must have been sitting there the whole time he and his family had been in traffic, but he only caught the flash of the white dress, like the sparkle of a jewel, when the bus started to turn onto a side street.

How was this possible? On Friday he’d seen her in Let’s Make Love and he’d thought it might be the last time.  … continue reading here.

A poem by Adrian Blevins (poetry, ‘02) appears in Roanoke Review:

I was wallowing along inadequately inside myself
just using caution on the highway like the good sign said

when a breakdown in the ambiance hurled it out there
that my pussy was the knob on a suitcase in an atrium

or a sack of potatoes or a teeny pile, perchance, of snow.
A set of cardboard boxes. A pip upon the ground.

A bonnet, a barrette, a little oval-shaped piece of soap …

… continue reading here.

A poem by Dilruba Ahmed (poetry, ‘09) appears in Drunken Boat:

Your Questions, Answered

Rest at ease.  All of the answers
to any concerns you may have raised
have been quietly prepared in advance
for your convenience.  As for your final
question, nobody knows.  Rest assured
we’ve pursued every possible
possibility and yielded no returns.

… continue reading here.

Two poems by Ian Randall Wilson (poetry, ’02; fiction, ’16) appears in The American Journal of Poetry:

 

 

“The Interference of the Women”

We gather against volition

on the town’s single hill.

The waters are rising

everyone smells salt.

The priest did not have time to dress

and is disheveled as are the rest of us.

… Continue reading both poems here.

A poem by Jennifer Sperry Steinorth (poetry, ’15) appears in Boxcar Poetry Review:

Dear Robber

Robert Frost is hard for me to get
excited about. Sacrilege you say?
But I need him now. In order to write—
don’t know what— not sure how. He loved him.
My father-in-law. Robert Frost. The world
he wrote about. Educated on site.

Continue reading here.