We Are More: Istanbul
“Don’t ask her what happened,” Abu Mali says. We do anyways, in Arabic so he can’t understand, but she ignores us.
Recent posts
Rumpus Articles
National Poetry Month: 黄梵 Huang Fan
My zodiac sign really is the rabbit / As a child, I ground my teeth in my sleep / According to the rabbit dictionary / That’s how you say pain
National Poetry Month: Mark Leidner
I found a chest / that contained an important upgrade // that let me absorb more damage / going forward,
Voices on Addiction: The Shape of Memory
He smelled of faint traces of acetone and the lemon hand soap he always used. He smelled like home.
National Poetry Month: Soleil Davíd
I learn to fear / what might have happened if they had meant // to maul me, which is to say I don’t think enough / about death,
Unfun: Mariah Stovall’s I Love You So Much It’s Killing Us Both
There’s a temptation to look for narrative redemption, a sense of completeness, some reassurance that the trouble was worthwhile, that all will be okay.
Never Just One Story: A Conversation with Wayne Scott
Falling in love for the first time is like the first draft of a short story you’re writing— messy and exciting and full of possibilities.
National Poetry Month: Harmony Holiday
She threatens to love them like this forever in pieces flabby patchwork of his lost sheet music
Home is a Word Unspoken
Our grocery store. Our bank. Our beloved local coffee shop and pizza parlor. I didn’t know where I was until I saw the magnolia tree, rigid and charred.
National Poetry Month: Mathias Svalina
So let’s collect our birthed things, no matter / how small or useless, & store them on museum / shelves.
National Poetry Month: Arda Collins
He was asking me / to read his mind / and smell him, acquire memories / with him / that would float through my life with me.