February 2026
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My Life as a Chaise Lounge
by Beth Sherman Lately, Eric and Katie have been fighting. Eric wants to sell me on Facebook Marketplace. Katie says, no way. I’ve been in her family for like, almost a century. You can’t put a price on comfortability. Actually, Eric claims you can. They’d get $4,300. He’s checked the comps. He took pictures of… Continue reading
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Photography by Michael Peterson
Michael Peterson is a retired physician, husband, dad, and grandpa. He now works on the family cattle ranch in rural central Utah. He likes reading, writing, printmaking and photography with a Holga camera. Continue reading
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Two Poems by Valentina Fulginiti
when a poet diesit’s not every day that a poet dies,last words tossed with scattered changeinside the glove compartment, frozen under crusty soles and muddy tracks and everywhere the same panic screams its FUCK DID YOU DO’s and His name wasted on a youthful killer’s lips // it’s not every day that a poet dies… Continue reading
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Saint Evelyn
by Geoffrey Orens No one actually remembers much about Evelyn, although we remember her constantly: her portrait has been outside the Catholic church on Meserole for the last 25 years, forever enshrining her as a saintly 15-year old. Ever since that tragic hit-and-run that took away her life, she watches over us with a half-smile… Continue reading
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Snipers
by Mileva Anastasiadou Horror is on the menu and we take it because we’re tired of rom-coms and light dramas and coming of age narratives, but also because horror is our only option now that we’ve grown old. They don’t serve romance to people our age. The young waiter recognizes us because we’re regulars and… Continue reading
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The poem is not the words though the poem is made of words
by Hilary Sallick This morning a silver cat appeared outside my window its second visit in two daysIt stepped from the roofof my neighbor’s shedto the trunk of the mulberry where it clungagainst gravity raptby the nearness of a squirrel downward-hanging easyin its tree The catheld on and met those eyes with its ownThen the… Continue reading
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Jaundice Baby
by Sukayna Davanzo Sunflowers but not their seeds. Sunsets, sunrises, the sun, some brands of suntan lotion. Bananas, vanilla cake, the inside of a mango. Melted butter, melted butter dripped over fried cauliflower, finished with a squeeze of lemon. Gold, hay, most corn, maybe wheat, pineapples. My favorite bottle of lemon-scented Lysol. The stereotypical rain… Continue reading
January House Literary Journal 