Gnashing Teeth Publishing

| words that get in your teeth

The Summoning by Kiran Maharaj

They ran away from us, children

on a winter day. They took torches, tied

the mother—the martyr, she corrected—

to timber and torched the thing.


Did they mistake her, mother, sleeper,

dreamer, as a sign from gods unknown? Did

her children taste soot and flame, mistake it

for the taste of divinity? Two watched


what their future could be; arms coiled,

smiling, almost, if they only remembered how.

black and white photo of woman in black clothes with her back to the camera, wearing a white knit cap standing in the snow in front of trees

Feijoa Dreams by Ana Martinez

Things that didn’t stop the car bomb from going off near my grandmother’s house: A gentle childhood nestled with tucked-in nightly prayers and teddy bear kisses, framed by high ceiling

close up of woman wearing glasses with red listick and straight blond hair with a grey shirt

When Did I Know? by Maple Scoresby

As long as I can remember, every star that shot across the sky, every birthday candle I blew out, came with the silent wish that I would wake the next

crow in flight

The Crows Remember by Alex Grehy

My grandfather once shot a crow for the simple crime of stealing peas – he hung the body from the canes as a warning to the others. Already dressed in


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