You Don't Have to Explain

“Interior vs. Exterior” was first published in SWWIM, 2019. For more of Sarah M. Sala's work, visit sarahmsala.com.Interior vs. ExteriorAt my worst, I control the boundaries of my form, and yet, when divine, the self permeates the physical world. It's true: the atoms of our bodies grieve each other in death just like a color doesn't occur alone— but takes meaning from other colors. The moon was a changeable star that ruled men's fate. Water was green and not blue to medieval cartographers. The complexity of ocher begs the viewer to grapple with it. We are swiftly becoming an indoor species. Yet, scientists know more about outer space than the Earth's oceans. Humans brought the natural world into their homes to combat the rise of machines. Without us knowing, trees converse via latticed fungi. Gender isn't something one is, but does. We are a vast assembly of nerve cells— the continents longing for each other.

“Doing Donuts in an '87 Mustang 5.0, After My Homie Chris Gets Broken Up With” was first published in The Offing, October 2019. For more of Michael Torres's work, visit michaeltorreswriter.com.Doing Donuts in an '87 Mustang 5.0, After My Homie Chris Gets Broken Up WithI want to argue for the stars but I find them missingthrough this window splattered with mud. Tonight,I sit shotty and do not ask Chris if he's okay. This isthe kind of loyalty I know—how the Mustangmakes eights across a soccer field. I run my handover pennies Pepsi-ed to the center console. That photo of his ex still blocks the speedometer and the nextfew years of his life have already begun to carve a cave. I pluck pennies into my palm. It doesn'ttake long for this story to burn through the field.The safety belt shocks my collar. Chris turns and aims for a gate without easing off the gas. I yell Fuck it to whatever I can't hear him say. And isn't that whyI'm here?—to watch chain-links swell in his headlights. I disappear the pennies with my fist.

“Dead Horse Bay” by Suzanne Highland was first published in Iron Horse Literary Review #21.2, Summer 2019. For more of Suzanne Highland's work, visit suzannehighland.com.Dead Horse BayI plead into my phonefor you to pick up your phone.Meanwhile, branches draped in Spanish moss and beaded garlandsglint from the gatheringof pine trees, outposts at the edge of the landwhere slaughtered horses keep their graves. You pick up glass from the sand: brown bottle necks, broken amber ware, bluish shards stampedTABANERO CIGARS.You come upfrom the water sayingwow, look at this, then hold out your handand I look at it.