“On Contemplating a Second Child,” by Jennifer Case, appears in the Winter 2019 Issue of MQR. The winter my husband and I debate whether or not to have a second child, I am a new faculty member at a state university. The job is a good one—
“Breathe,” by Ash Whitman, appears in the Winter 2019 Issue of MQR. When I think about who I am in my light brown skin, I always come back to Olvera Street. Olvera Street, wedged between Union Station and the Santa Ana Freeway, stuck in time but
Clamping my hand over my left boob, which was leaking a slow and deliberate drip-drip-drip into my nursing bra and then into my marled gray t-shirt, and then onto my hand, I galloped up the basement stairs, taking two steps at a time, my body
At the risk of generalizing perhaps too broadly, prose by poets—that is, prose written by writers whose primary mode is poetry—seems to fall into two camps. Either the writing is extremely sober, to clearly differentiate it from the poet’s poetry (think criticism, or op-eds), or
I think of my grandmother whenever I delight over rotting corpses and the life cycle of maggots, when I research methods of picking locks, escaping from car trunks, or working myself loose when I am tied to a chair and someone is trying to pull my teeth out with pliers. I think of her when I see unmarked vans with suspicious drivers. I think of her in dark alleys, or when I read news stories of cat murders.