Antioch University Literary Magazine

Winter 2013

The Winter 2011 issue features Creative Nonfiction from Micaela Seidel, Genre X from Sarah Long, and Poetry from Lek Borja, Michelle "Strawberry" Heymann, Wednesday Hobson, and Jessica Kincade
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Spring 2012

Fall 2011

Seized Lies My Body

Lek Borja Seized lies my body in the latitude of her sex How her desire shines like luminescence in the sea as if the moon were inside it, as in every hour where we enter together Tenderly sink then float longingly so My eyes follow her journey down to its end With her tears...
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Involuntary Reflexes, or How I Ruin Art

Andrea Danowski I was going to start off with the story my dad always tells about how he almost knocked over a Giacometti once. I don't know if it was the one that recently sold for just over a hundred million dollars, but it was one of the Walking Man bronze sculptures. My...
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Winter 2011

When by Michelle Strawberry Heymann

I judge myself deeply, harshly – don’t allow courtesy given others, thoughtless tortured by tumultuous thoughts, ticking driving negativity nails through, aching begging, the merciless obsession eradicated, relentless screaming behind frozen stare, scared floods back like recoiling toes from cold water, endless forgiveness, permission – breathe and be, redemption when ...
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Paul by Wednesday Hobson

I cannot muster effort enough to show what is and unspoken there what little deserves and overly qualifies a human to which I am particular. There is a body: made of sinews, contrasting with elasticity – his rubberband arms and legs cinnamon facades made for over-ambiguity – preserving a heart perpetual pumped...
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Drive-Through by Jessica Kinkade

If you pull up to the And order something cheap but good Have but secretly crave, And they’ll wrap her in whole wheat lace Along with the tomato lube and honey Dijon. And the smell of her leaking juices is so pungent – That you can put aside your She came from, Under the...
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Falling, Stairs, Fragments, Fire ~ by Micaela Seidel

1 It was summer. I was sweeping in the kitchen, facing south. There was that milling around feeling, children everywhere, my own and some others — that white-haired child from down the road. Hear the sound of hammering, one, two, three, pause, one, two, three — a husband somewhere, working. There is...
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Two Daughters by Sarah Long

When I was a kid my parents moved a lot, but I always found them. They would carry on as if changing the locks was a game all parents played with their oldest child, to trick them into resiliency. They let my little sister have my bedroom one day while I was at school,...
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If by Abigail Templeton-Greene

in remembrance of Eun Kang What if it were just called Monday, not Night of Remembrance, not Ceremony or Candlelight Vigil? If this night was a night with nothing to take back? If women did not carry tea lights or pray under a canopy of bamboo? What if...
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Biography for Mother’s Family Photos by Mishon A. Wooldridge

I need a camera, to my eye, to my eye, reminding which lies I’ve been hiding -Wilco, “Kamera” Many of my pictures are copies of my dad’s photos. Others were given to me by friends, or posted to their facebook accounts, but the majority are my own, for I am interested, like...
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Experimental by Susan Johnson

At the observation station observers tried observing themselves making observations and were impressed by the results. A film loop of a loop of film being filmed in a loop. For scientific purposes, some said. For posterity said others, to preserve in our selves the making of ourselves, as seen in the making. Doesn't...
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The Caper of the Missing Koi by Luisa Villani

How to still the gills until they need to go how to go from...
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Farbende by Ed Frankel

The iron treadles rock and doven in the flatiron shadows, pressed air and piece work. Hungry hands move like birds. Every week the girl who makes the least gets fired.
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RITUALS by Lynn Bey

1. Our mother calls me to come and look at her. That is how we begin. “Say something,” she says. She tries to sound petulant, but her image in the full-length mirror makes her smile. “A sheath,” I offer, cross-legged on the floor. I hold a pillow on my lap despite the heat.
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ORBIT by Melissa Mason

And it seemed that, just a little more—and the solution would be found, and then a new, beautiful life would begin; and it was clear to both of them that the end was still far off, and that the most complicated and difficult part was just beginning. Anton Chekhov
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FAMILY OWNED by R. Neal Bonser

I was right in the middle of a late-night rush in the deli when Jeffers, one of our regulars, came slamming in like a lion late for a feeding. Most of our regulars are a pain to be sure, but Jeffers is in his own category. He’s hairy all over with this crazy-looking, giant...
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Are They Real? by Virginia Silverman

“Are they real, Mommy?” My daughter was staring at my bare breasts one morning last month as I got dressed for work. The incisions from my double mastectomy were quiet now, having faded to a mildly aggravated pink over the past six years since my surgeries.
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