For January, we bring you a lovely and strange poem by Ching-In Chen, titled "Disagreement, Twins". The poem paints the titular disagreement with precise and surprising imagery, haunting the reader with its unlikely setting and leaving questions hovering in its blank spaces.
-- Karissa Chen, Fiction & Poetry Editor
When I crawled into mother, I saw he had threaded stitches like vines up and down her walls. He hung a silver curtain, a waterfall of hair whistling between us.
The door was on his side, mine the shit-hole.
I waited out August sticky, stewing with comeback.
I could not see bloody silver, heard him magpie, a bubble burping out her esophagus.