The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Brown Girl Chromatography by Anuradha Bhowmik


This selection, chosen by guest editor Tierney Bailey, is from Brown Girl Chromatography by Anuradha Bhowmik, released by University of Pittsburgh Press in 2022.

Elegy for the Surgeon

Baba’s lace-up leather shoes from Bangladesh had needlepoint patterns pricked in the skin and bands of lentil-sized eyelets. He’d never tell me the truth about our American life in the early 90s, but he slipped up from time to time: pow-dered milk, trash picking, pocket change, etcetera. While he tried on Velcro shoes from the Kmart clearance, I walked toward the aisle of Barbie Jeeps. Soon he traded laces and fine stitches for double straps and casino work. Hid the black Bata brand shoes in a latch-lock suitcase with our Bangali birth certificates, stethoscopes, spare passport photos from first grade featuring pigtails he tied with rubber bands. I cut my hair in layers when I turned twelve, to look like the popular girls who smoked ganja after school. So your dad wears skirts? He went barefoot at home, traded his lungi for trousers when Americans came over. The black leather dress shoes creased at the toe. They weren’t cost effective like the ten‑dollar Thom McAn’s: scuffs and dry sweat coated with ultra-shine shoe polish and Dr. Scholl’s insoles. He never noticed the embossed Size 9 and Made in Bangladesh fade from the inner leather lining, the unfastened eyelet lost in a crisscross. He kept a shoehorn handy by the door, until the cheap rubber soles wedged thin and lost grip.


Anuradha Bhowmik is a Bangladeshi-American poet and writer from South Jersey. She is the 2021 winner of the Agnes Lynch Starrett Poetry Prize for her first collection Brown Girl Chromatography (Pitt Poetry Series, 2022). Bhowmik is a Kundiman Fellow and a 2018 AWP Intro Journals Project Winner in Poetry. She lives in Philadelphia.

Tierney Bailey is a Libra, a lover of science fiction and poetry, and is a dice-collecting gremlin. Currently, Tierney is Associate Poetry Editor with Sundress Publications, a copyeditor at Strange Horizons, Associate Editor with PodCastle, and a freelance graphic designer. She has earned a BA from the University of Indianapolis and a Masters Degree in Writing, Literature, and Publishing from Emerson College.

Sundress Reads: Review of Places We Left Behind: a memoir-in-miniature

Places We Left Behind: a memoir-in-miniature (Vine Leaves Press, 2023) is a bleeding-heart memoir from Jennifer Lang about the desperate lows and blissful highs of marriage. Capturing her emotions throughout her marriage in a refreshingly honest and vulnerable way, Lang tackles the biggest question-mark in marriage through confessional. In her poem “How?”, she captures the speculation in beautiful language:

“As I slip a ring on Philippe’s finger, I think about how he blinks his eyes like an impish little boy, how he looks like he does dozens of pushups every day, how he makes jokes with a straight face. How we are going to spend our lives together. How are we going to spend our lives together?” (16).

The themes of resignation due to religious differences occur throughout the entirety of the work. Places We Left Behind takes no time presenting, and therefore foreshadowing, the biggest point of tension of the manuscript: religion. Lang’s work features charts and graphs in several poems, but the poem “Seesaw” uses it especially well. Lang cleverly inserts a simple line graph with her [“me”] on one end and “him” on the other. The horizontal line tilts so that “him” is higher on the right than her [“me”] on the left. This shorter piece accomplishes so much with so little space on the page, especially with the dialogue between the speaker and the husband on doing Shabbat “more like me [him]” (10).

Speaking of graphs and charts, Lang’s creative nonfiction manuscript is refreshingly experimental. Lang takes strides to use the page as a canvas for telling a story in any way she can. In true confessional form, Lang recalls the pros and cons list she made regarding Philippe before they wed, courtesy of an idea her sibling had. On “Sides,”the list is shown, with the very telling line “when the negatives outweigh the positives, I tear out the sheet and toss it” (9). Lang’s honesty about marriage isn’t something always seen in the literary world. It’s common to use rose-tinted glasses, especially in creative nonfiction and poetry (of which there are a few pieces in the manuscript), but Lang uses the clarity to her advantage, especially when describing her time in Israel. The speaker’s visit to Israel is often presented as a short-term band aid for a long-term issue within the marriage, especially when the question of starting a family is introduced despite rising conflicts in the Middle East. Interestingly, the speaker’s pieces about the war(s) she engaged with are often presented in poems rather than the usual short creative nonfiction pieces that make up the bulk of the manuscript. Lang describes her first time having to use a gas mask during a bombing in the heartbreaking, two-part poem “Distort:”

“…don gas masks, gag, hear husband say breathe (try not to gag), hear rockets outside windows covered with industrial strength plastic sheeting, gag, hear CNN report live in the middle east (try not to gag)-” (20).

Places We Left Behind does an amazing job capturing the essence of true loneliness along with the waiting steps one can take to find themselves in a better place despite such feelings. Lang writes about loneliness in a way that I haven’t seen in other work: loneliness as the matriarch of a family. Deeper into the manuscript, in “4:1,” Lang describes the alienation she feels with her husband and three kids, all enthusiastically practicing Judaism along with their father, while Lang only does so out of obligation. The pain in the poem is clear as she writes:

“Just like the four of them shower before Shabbat starts on Friday,
Just like the four of them dress up and leave for synagogue every Saturday morning,
Just like the four of them sleep outside in the Sukkah every Autumn,
Just like the four of them eat only Kosher meat.
Our family dynamic is often 4:1, leaving me Odd Mom Out and uncomfortable in my own home, in my own skin” (44).

This piece makes the other dozens of pages about the fear of raising children in a world like we inhabit hurt so much more. To juxtapose the poem with early 90’s Middle Eastern tensions, the theme of a lack of safety comes up again in the seemingly obligatory 9/11 poem, in which Lang admits that nowhere is safe. Not even New York.

Places We Left Behind is a must-read for anyone looking for an exhilarating memoir with a beautiful ending. It’s no wonder that in a memoir full of so much doubt, so many trials and tribulations, in the end, Lang’s love for her family prevails and she chooses to stay with them and move back to Israel. It is a meditation on the meaning of marriage, the common “what ifs” of motherhood, and the journey of finding yourself when it seems all you are is a dot in the universe. Or, at the very least, being okay with that fact.

Places We Left Behind: a memoir-in-miniature is forthcoming from Vine Leaves Press

Lyra Thomas is a black nonbinary poet from the St Louis area, currently residing in Carbondale, IL for their MFA in Poetry from Southern Illinois University, which is also their alma mater. They received their BA in Creative Writing in 2018. Lyra enjoys reading/writing poetry, curating Spotify playlists, and cuddling with their cats Max and Silver.

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Yearn by Rage Hezekiah


This selection, chosen by guest editor Tierney Bailey, is from Yearn by Rage Hezekiah, released by Diode Editions in 2022.

When You Bled Into My Uncle’s Bed Sheets

I pushed too deep or fingernail- nicked inside, we lied, said the blood was mine & monthly. You came hard & fast as always, in the Harlem apartment, deep red spreading like war. Your face a flash of shame, I never meant to harm or hurt you. Bloody bedding in the bath, I ran cool water over the stain. Pink liquid rimmed the drain, we whispered apologies to no one.


Rage Hezekiah is a Cave Canem, Ragdale, and MacDowell Fellow who earned her MFA from Emerson College. She is a recipient of the Saint Botolph Emerging Artist Award and she serves as Interviews Editor at The Common. She is the author of Unslakable (Paper Nautilus Press, 2019) and Stray Harbor (Finishing Line Press, 2019). Rage’s poems have appeared in the Academy of American Poets Poem-a-Day, The Cincinnati Review, The Colorado Review, and many other journals and anthologies.

Tierney Bailey is a Libra, a lover of science fiction and poetry, and is a dice-collecting gremlin. Currently, Tierney is Associate Poetry Editor with Sundress Publications, a copyeditor at Strange Horizons, Associate Editor with PodCastle, and a freelance graphic designer. She has earned a BA from the University of Indianapolis and a Masters Degree in Writing, Literature, and Publishing from Emerson College.

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Yearn by Rage Hezekiah


This selection, chosen by guest editor Tierney Bailey, is from Yearn by Rage Hezekiah, released by Diode Editions in 2022.

Altar

First the smell, then the ribs
fetid at the edges of the dark water.

Rotted, open, I visit each day,
monitor the slow decay, think deer,

then raccoon, then possum. What’s left—
matted fur emerging from mud,

a small skull, all carnivorous teeth
intact. Is it not a waste to leave it reeking

at the shoreline of a manmade pond?
I plunge a stick into parietal space, pluck

skull from spine, the bone’s silent release.
Surrender body by water’s edge,

a whole faceless face dangles
from crooked branch. I leave

rove beetles to work, glean meaty creases,
liberate a waxless shape. Days later

I home the form, brighten it with bleach
to adorn my altar. Kin to hawk feathers,

driftwood, Caribbean shells, round stones
smaller than my palm. Preservation—

an act of praise. I kneel in reverence,
forehead to floor in prayer.

Rage Hezekiah is a Cave Canem, Ragdale, and MacDowell Fellow who earned her MFA from Emerson College. She is a recipient of the Saint Botolph Emerging Artist Award and she serves as Interviews Editor at The Common. She is the author of Unslakable (Paper Nautilus Press, 2019) and Stray Harbor (Finishing Line Press, 2019). Rage’s poems have appeared in the Academy of American Poets Poem-a-Day, The Cincinnati Review, The Colorado Review, and many other journals and anthologies.

Tierney Bailey is a Libra, a lover of science fiction and poetry, and is a dice-collecting gremlin. Currently, Tierney is Associate Poetry Editor with Sundress Publications, a copyeditor at Strange Horizons, Associate Editor with PodCastle, and a freelance graphic designer. She has earned a BA from the University of Indianapolis and a Masters Degree in Writing, Literature, and Publishing from Emerson College.

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Yearn by Rage Hezekiah


This selection, chosen by guest editor Tierney Bailey, is from Yearn by Rage Hezekiah, released by Diode Editions in 2022.

Sixteen

                              after Danez Smith

I ride my bike to a boy
what we make
he will kiss
and cry and I
I owe him something
I will let him
my mouth but
I will suck his dick
and not think
it isn’t the first time
this boy can cry
when I get there
I don’t want
I take it anyway
for being a girl
a boy
when I get there
will not be beautiful
my freshly shaved head
will feel
like I belong to him
into the wet wool of
refuse to swallow
while he is crying
this is strange
I’ve done this
I ride my bike to a boy
I’m not sweating
what he gives me
I am guilty
who doesn’t want

Rage Hezekiah is a Cave Canem, Ragdale, and MacDowell Fellow who earned her MFA from Emerson College. She is a recipient of the Saint Botolph Emerging Artist Award and she serves as Interviews Editor at The Common. She is the author of Unslakable (Paper Nautilus Press, 2019) and Stray Harbor (Finishing Line Press, 2019). Rage’s poems have appeared in the Academy of American Poets Poem-a-Day, The Cincinnati Review, The Colorado Review, and many other journals and anthologies.

Tierney Bailey is a Libra, a lover of science fiction and poetry, and is a dice-collecting gremlin. Currently, Tierney is Associate Poetry Editor with Sundress Publications, a copyeditor at Strange Horizons, Associate Editor with PodCastle, and a freelance graphic designer. She has earned a BA from the University of Indianapolis and a Masters Degree in Writing, Literature, and Publishing from Emerson College.

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Yearn by Rage Hezekiah


This selection, chosen by guest editor Tierney Bailey, is from Yearn by Rage Hezekiah, released by Diode Editions in 2022.

Amends

You taught me

to foster rage

momentum

on the inside

of my woman-body

a vascular anthem.

I can say

the sick man’s prayer

by memory:

this is a sick person

how can I

be helpful to them

god save me

from being angry

thy will be done.

My own anger

a white flag

of concession.

I’ve laid down

tired mitts

& won’t hit

again. How lovely

to be out

of your range.

Swing

away.

You missed

the irony

that the poem

you redacted

confronts denial.

Secrecy a symptom

of our disease—

We’re only

as sick

as our secrets.

Still you sequester

bury shame

in the garden

of my childhood home

hide &

don’t heal.

But didn’t

the confessional

free you?

Didn’t

an anonymous man

absolve your guilt?

Mother

what freedom

I feel

to not be

yours.


Rage Hezekiah is a Cave Canem, Ragdale, and MacDowell Fellow who earned her MFA from Emerson College. She is a recipient of the Saint Botolph Emerging Artist Award and she serves as Interviews Editor at The Common. She is the author of Unslakable (Paper Nautilus Press, 2019) and Stray Harbor (Finishing Line Press, 2019). Rage’s poems have appeared in the Academy of American Poets Poem-a-Day, The Cincinnati Review, The Colorado Review, and many other journals and anthologies.

Tierney Bailey is a Libra, a lover of science fiction and poetry, and is a dice-collecting gremlin. Currently, Tierney is Associate Poetry Editor with Sundress Publications, a copyeditor at Strange Horizons, Associate Editor with PodCastle, and a freelance graphic designer. She has earned a BA from the University of Indianapolis and a Masters Degree in Writing, Literature, and Publishing from Emerson College.

Sundress Reads: Review of In The Museum of My Daughter’s Mind

Working carefully with words and purposeful end rhymes (eclipse/synapse, obsessions/questions, transgression/lesson), Marjorie Maddox’s In the Museum of My Daughter’s Mind (Shanti Arts, 2023) does a beautiful job of translating brushstrokes to print and taking innovative storytelling elements to bring the characters on canvas into a new dimension.

The interchanging use of forms as a way to express different modes of art speaks clearly from the page. With villanelles, pantoums, and free verse, the reader is able to explore within the boundaries of the words’ canvas yet gain a very rewarding trip through settings we feel as if we’ve been to before, but forgot to open our eyes the first time we visited. This allows the world Maddox created—in part with the mixed media of the collection itself—to invite us to travel from settings that place us in realistic spaces like libraries to the daring act of our inner mind and struggles with mental health.

Maddox’s own gift with words allows the media to take on a new story, but so does the small things that could be overlooked on a first read. For me, what really stuck out was the feeling of drowning in words in “Ark.” The entire piece doesn’t use punctuation until the finality of the last phrase: “circle the submersion of world to / flutter and hover to / dive and discover to / finally land.” The definiteness of this piece offers closure and peace; while losing your footing and feeling like you’re falling, Maddox teaches us how to sprout wings and find a soft place to land amidst the chaos. 

The collection demands and earns respect for both art and language, paint and pen. It’s innovative, honest, and diverse in its ability to show and not tell. It offers open interpretation—as does the art included—and allows the reader to morph these stories and characters into something familiar, as terrifying as that can be. Yet, that’s what makes this collection stand out: being able to have words that speak such truth within them, but also divulge itself into what isn’t real, what doesn’t feel tangible, what doesn’t feel interpretable. This lends itself well to journeys with mental illness, and especially with the poem “Swirl.”

“Swirl” offers an inner look into how the relationships mentioned earlier melt and mold themselves into a deep dive of creativity and psychology. The natural repetition from the pantoum form in this piece, which is very similar to “The Choice,” allows the mundanity of day to day to propel forward into symptoms “the daughter” faces in this piece. Unlike its other form counterpart, “Swirl” sets itself apart with the anxiety of loss; of the self and of a loved one.

Like other pieces in this collection, it puts reality into perspective, a perspective that is constantly being questioned in the art as its counterpart. In particular, “Swirl” offers a haunting and chilling sensation and the fine line between the artist coming out in the art and exposing the vulnerability in honesty.

This honesty is what really sets Maddox’s collection apart. In the Museum of My Daughter’s Mind offers a look into credibility, the calmness of repetition (but also the anxiety and loss that can come from this), and morphing reality to truth and vice versa. It uses art to tell a story and poetry to tell the art, an overarching theme that makes each turn of the page poignant in its individuality. “Ante Meridiem/Post Meridiem” ends in a beautiful way that I think speaks well for the hard work Maddox has done in creating this collection and turning it into a vast story: “Stay / a while / and / admire.”

In the Museum of My Daughter’s Mind is available from Shanti Arts

Amber Alexander holds a B.A. in English with research distinction and triple minors (Creative Writing, Professional Writing, and History) from The Ohio State University. They plan to pursue graduate-level studies in the near future and currently works in higher education. They have previously worked on the Editorial Staff for Cornfield Review, where they have also been published. Alexander earned multiple awards for poetry, prose, playwriting, and creative nonfiction while an undergrad.

Interview with Heather Bartlett, Author of Another Word for Hunger

The cover of a book, showing a white background with a feminine silhouette in black. On top of the silhouette are bold words in orange, "Another Word for Hunger." The word "poems" appears below the title, and Heather Bartlett's name is printed at the bottom right.

Ahead of the release of her new book of poetry Another Word for Hunger, Sundress intern Mack Ibrahim and writer Heather Bartlett discussed themes such as desire and human connection. Here, Bartlett lays it all out on the table in a raw, honest, and insightful way.

Mack Ibrahim: Is there a connection between your collection’s title Another Word for Hunger and your poem’s title “That Kind of Hunger”?

Heather Bartlett: If I were to make a list of synonyms for hunger, it would start with desire. “That Kind of Hunger” is a poem about exploring desire in its simplest form. The speaker in that poem is still young enough that she isn’t constrained by gender norms or societal expectations, even if the reader is keenly aware that these forces exist within the poem. So, the speaker plays the role of the prince when she plays fairytale. She climbs the tree and admires the princess. She doesn’t yet know what is going to change, what is going to be lost, and what the consequences of certain kinds of desire will be as she outgrows this moment.

MI: What is the significance of saying “my lover,” such as in “Tonight I Am,” versus “my love,” such as in “I Spy”?

HB: Distance. Tense. A lover is in a present-tense physical relationship. In “Tonight I Am,” the speaker is so close to her lover that she begins to imagine them as one. But a love, well a love can be anyone, past, present, or future. In “I Spy,” the speaker is so far removed from all these loves that she is watching/missing/admiring them all from a computer screen.

MI: In terms of structure, why is “red | wolf” not included in the three sections of this collection?

HB: The book’s epigraph, “There are things lovely and dangerous still,” comes from a poem by June Jordan. I view “red | wolf,” in many ways, as speaking to that line and its resonance in the collection. The poem draws on the familiar—Red Riding Hood and the Wolf—to begin to explore the roots and meanings of hunger. I let this poem stand on its own because it serves as a prelude. This poem opens the door to the collection.

MI: Can you speak more about your use of parentheses in “red | wolf” and “Mockingbird”?

HB: Sometimes there are two voices speaking at once in a poem. They speak to each other. They speak over each other. They interrupt each other. They give meaning to each other. I’m using parentheses to make space for these voices.

MI: You write powerfully about a few key experiences with your mother. How would you say your relationship with her has influenced your writing?

HB: There are instances in the collection in which the mother figure is based on my relationship with my own mother, yes. She did teach me how to spot the constellations. She did brush the knots out of my wet hair every morning (Hi, Mom). But the mother in these poems is really an amalgamation of influential voices and forces, not just mothers, or parents, or even people in just my life. The mother in these poems represents a larger voice and force. The relationship I explore between mother and daughter in these poems is speaking to a much larger form of hunger—the need to be loved and accepted and valued in the world. So many in the LGBTQ+ community have people in our lives who struggle to accept or understand us when we come out. So many of us live in places where our lives are being devalued. The mother and daughter in these poems are trying to find their way toward something better.

MI: How do the different kinds of love—your feelings for your mother and for your partners in Another Word for Hunger influence each other?

HB: Love is a kind of hunger, isn’t it? It takes on many forms, but it’s always rooted in the desire to be Seen and Recognized. I think I’m seeking a form of that in every relationship, in every poem. It’s miraculous when we find it. And it’s devastating when we don’t.

MI: How would you describe the intersection of spirituality and queerness within your poetry?

HB: I think there is something quite spiritual about the process of coming out. In order to get there, we need to come to know ourselves so fully, so clearly. That process of self-reflecting, self-recognizing, and self-accepting is one of discovery. In the collection, I explore this in a few ways. One of the biggest is through the series of “Eve” poems. Much like the mother figure in the collection, Eve is not simply one figure. She isn’t just Eve who bites the apple; she is many things at once—a symbol of spirituality, of femininity, of “otherness.” She is an idea, a feeling, a version of the self. Throughout the collection, Eve morphs from an external figure into a vital part of the speaker’s own self which she comes to recognize and nurture.

MI: You describe the body and physical touch as signs of intimacy and love. What would you say about the moments where intimacy and love don’t intersect?

HB: Intimacy is a form of longing and of searching. Sometimes it comes out of love and connection. Sometimes it comes out of loneliness and grief. To me, these are equally strong forces.

MI: What do you believe this collection says about loneliness and the desire for acceptance?

HB: Loneliness and desire are not mutually exclusive. They’re parts of one another. They’re born out of the same hunger. We can feel everything all at once and still keep looking for more.

Order your copy of Another Word for Hunger today!


Heather Bartlett, a white woman in a black blouse, peers into the camera with a soft smile.

Heather Bartlett is a poet, writer, and professor. Her poetry and prose can be found in print and online in journals such as the Los Angeles Review, Ninth Letter, RHINO Poetry, and others. She holds an MFA in poetry from Hunter College and is a professor of English and Creative Writing at the State University of New York College at Cortland, where she teaches in the Professional Writing Program and directs Cortland’s visiting writers series, Distinguished Voices in Literature. She is the founding editor of the online literary magazine Hoxie Gorge Review.

Mack Ibrahim, a non-binary person with glasses and short hair, grins. They wear a floral black and red top with black jeans and sit with their arm propped on their knee.

Mack Ibrahim is a second-year at Wheaton College in Illinois. They are majoring in English with a Writing concentration and minoring in American Ethnic Studies. Their hobbies include obsessively reading the webnovel Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint, going to concerts, and making memes for their D&D group.

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Yearn by Rage Hezekiah


This selection, chosen by guest editor Tierney Bailey, is from Yearn by Rage Hezekiah, released by Diode Editions in 2022.

On Anger

My white therapist calls it my edge, I hear
Angry Black Woman. She says, Strength
of Willful Negative Focus. She says, Acerbic
Intellectual Temperament. I copy her words
onto an index card. She wants
an origin story, a stranger with his hand
inside me, or worse. I’m without
linear narrative and cannot sate her. We
perform rituals on her living room floor. I burn
letters brimming with resentments, watch
the paper ember in the fireplace, admit
I don’t want to let this go. What if anger,
my armor, is embedded in the marrow
of who I am. Who can I learn to be
without it? Wherever you go,
there you are. She asks what I will lose
if I surrender, I imagine a gutted fish,
silvery skin gleaming, emptied of itself—

Rage Hezekiah is a Cave Canem, Ragdale, and MacDowell Fellow who earned her MFA from Emerson College. She is a recipient of the Saint Botolph Emerging Artist Award and she serves as Interviews Editor at The Common. She is the author of Unslakable (Paper Nautilus Press, 2019) and Stray Harbor (Finishing Line Press, 2019). Rage’s poems have appeared in the Academy of American Poets Poem-a-Day, The Cincinnati Review, The Colorado Review, and many other journals and anthologies.

Tierney Bailey is a Libra, a lover of science fiction and poetry, and is a dice-collecting gremlin. Currently, Tierney is Associate Poetry Editor with Sundress Publications, a copyeditor at Strange Horizons, Associate Editor with PodCastle, and a freelance graphic designer. She has earned a BA from the University of Indianapolis and a Masters Degree in Writing, Literature, and Publishing from Emerson College.

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Shoot the Horses First by Leah Angstman


This selection, chosen by guest editor Tierney Bailey, is from Shoot the Horses First by Leah Angstman, released by KERNPUNKT Press in 2023.

Yellow Flowers

The yellow flowers reminded her of the fever. Anna had watched her mother’s eyes fill with the same dreaded yellow color overnight, and now the flowers that dotted the Pennsylvania countryside through the coach’s rolltop window brought the memories back. To a seven-year-old girl, the blood from her mother’s mouth and stomach had been shocking, but the image of those jaundiced yellow eyes, so empty and lifeless, is what would forever haunt Anna.

She’d been living with her family in the nation’s capital, bustling Philadelphia, in the summer of 1793, when the fever struck. Her father—a sailor at Arch Street Wharf, where thick swarms of mosquitoes and the stench of waste permeated the air—succumbed after only three days, but not before bringing the devastation into their home and plaguing Anna’s mother and two infant cousins. The babies, their insides so fragile, died quickly; but her mother held on for a while.

Anna dripped wet cloths over her mother’s forehead for two days before the young girl was whisked away by a neighbor, enclosed in a lightless root cellar until she’d lost track of time, and finally stuck on a coach headed away from the city and into the countryside. The yellow flowers caught her attention again. The buds reminded her that she’d never know what her mother had looked like when she’d died, never hear her last words.

“Remember, don’t tell them you’re from Philadelphia,” a voice spoke over her shoulder as the coach approached the Maryland line, “or they won’t let you in. They’ll think you’re diseased.”

The voice belonged to a black man from the Free African Society, but Anna hardly knew him. Thomas: that much she did know. He’d been sent in to help at the request of President Washington because the black men of Philadelphia were immune to the fever, she’d heard. Thomas was the one to find her in the root cellar after her neighbor had disappeared—died, more likely. Anna still had several roots and canned meats from that cellar in her overnight carrier; she’d been thankful her hiding place held provisions, and Thomas had been thankful that she’d shared the meats with him. Touched by her plight, he took the great risk of escorting Anna out of Philadelphia before the fever could claim them both. Apparently, he hadn’t been so convinced that black men were any more immune to the fever than whites.

Just over the Maryland line, families gathered to find their panicked loved ones and to band together to build shelters for any unaffected evacuees. Thomas knew this, but insisted they pass by this camp to avoid detection. The bordering states quarantined refugees and refused to let them cross the state lines. Many of the evacuees were infected, spreading the fever, so traveling farther onward would keep Thomas and Anna alive.

More yellow flowers sprinkled the meadows as they passed, and the sun blazed violently, blinding Anna. Her forehead felt moist; was she sweating? Her eyes fuzzied. When she could see clearly again, a figure moving among the camp stole her attention. She knew that figure. She knew those arms, the height of those shoulders, even that floral apron she’d seen for all her life.

“Stop the coach!” Anna cried. “It’s Mama!”

Thomas squinted in the sun, contemplating. To stop the coach could mean death. He looked back at the little girl, knowing this, but knowing that if he didn’t stop, then that also meant death. He’d risked life and limb to bring them this far, but. His heart sped up, and he worried his bottom lip with tight teeth, a tight jaw.

“Stop the coach!” he called out, pounding the wood behind his head. “We’re here.”


Leah Angstman is the author of the historical novel of 17th-century New England, Out Front the Following Sea (Regal House, 2022), which won the Colorado Independent Publishers Association Evvy Book Award for both Historical Fiction and Cover Design and the Herb Tabak CIPA Choice Award for Fiction. Her second novel, Falcon in the Dive (Regal House, forthcoming spring 2024), was a finalist for the Clue Book Award for Historical Suspense. Leah serves as executive editor for Alternating Current Press and The Coil online magazine, and her work has appeared in numerous journals, including Publishers Weekly, Los Angeles Review of Books, and The Nashville Review.

Tierney Bailey is a Libra, a lover of science fiction and poetry, and is a dice-collecting gremlin. Currently, Tierney is Associate Poetry Editor with Sundress Publications, a copyeditor at Strange Horizons, Associate Editor with PodCastle, and a freelance graphic designer. She has earned a BA from the University of Indianapolis and a Masters Degree in Writing, Literature, and Publishing from Emerson College.