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.