Scenes From The Stoop

Hair like strong twine, sweet like the harvest of a California grape vine, to stop the spread of your smile is the worst crime, voice melodic like summer wind chimes, spirit divine, little Black girl I love you all time. My mother, sister, aunty, grandmother take hold of my thick, coarse head of black wool and divide my crown into

Short Stories


“Good lord, girl. You swelling!” The girl looked down at her belly, then beyond it down to her shoes, at this she was secretly satisfied. She was not pregnant and in punishment for her tardiness, her body had begun to form pockets of fat on her lower back, and a rounding belly that no amount of cardio had the power

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midnight - The Black Speculative fiction issue


Mama always said the Devil is a lie. I remember thinking that before it happened. But Mama was wrong. The Devil isn’t some jealous


“3 A.M./Stare at the ceilin’, murder the feelin’/Spider crawl in the corner—Brown Recluse./So appropriate” I rap, far too passionately. Honestly, there is no excuse


Cast aside the bloody hands of the self-righteous for they brittle and collapse amongst the bones of saints.   The tree leaves blew just