Cease, Cows

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The whistle is missing from my life jacket | Victoria Richards When he is born he is piscine slippery, grey and unearthly. Black-button eyes frozen by shock-sudden roaring, suckerfish caught in dull, red slip-stream. He ducks and slaps, blows bubbles, panic-pulls blue cord that binds and breaks us and I can’t believe he’s here. Is he okay? Is he breathing? I rest my head against the rim and wait for someone to shout – man overboard – 22
Born Crying Sparkles, & Other Girl-Myths | Audrey T. Carroll I started carving a place for you in this world before confirmation of your existence, before the dream where we giggled & played on the floor as the sunlight blessed us both in softness, before a black & white screen endorsed your girlhood. Carving is necessary when the mold is built one-size, no customization conceded, like hand-me-down socks with hearts cuffing the ankles, & I knew—whoever you were—I wanted you to be able to sport tutus while inventing stories with dinosaurs because I was allowed one, my brother the other, & it nearly strangled the life out of us both even with my still-surviving pink obsession & love of florals (because the combat boots & AC/DC were never invited out to play, didn’t exist, locked away in a corner rust-haven of a closet where the scraps that didn’t fit the template were sent until they accepted their irrelevance). I sharpen my tongue in anticipation of every illadvised decree that you should be offered tiaras & pointe shoes only (that lightsabers are for boys, that girls don’t like science & should go, regardless of interest, paint a rose instead) because I heard that every time, because I know the asphyxia of forced-upon lace, of ruffles coiling like cobras around childsized ribs, & I will always let you choose. 23
Page 1 and 2: Cease, Cows 2018 Mother’s Day Iss
Page 3 and 4: Contents Shark | 11 Abigail Pearson
Page 5 and 6: this golden age | 20 Allie Marini i
Page 7 and 8: Emilia | 25 Eileen Chong is a Sydne
Page 9 and 10: Long Arms | 36 Maureen Langloss is
Page 11 and 12: Shark | Abigail Pearson In my dream
Page 13 and 14: So you cloister their world in cell
Page 15 and 16: The instinctive protective hand to
Page 17 and 18: Laborynth | Amy Alexander 17
Page 19 and 20: we would have named her after a tre
Page 21: Eighth Month Swelter | Caroljean Ga
Page 25 and 26: Emilia | Eileen Chong The babies ma
Page 27 and 28: Ever so slowly, your sucking become
Page 29 and 30: Waiting to Inhale | Amy Alexander 2
Page 31 and 32: Or brush back the dream-damp curls
Page 33 and 34: I wrote, “I am disassembled,” I
Page 35 and 36: Farmer’s wife, ironing in kitchen
Page 37 and 38: I do have piles on mismatched table
Page 39 and 40: The Bridge | Amy Alexander 39
Page 41 and 42: She taught me the meaning of demasi
Page 43 and 44: offered my tires air for twenty-fiv
Page 45: Howl | Amy Alexander 45

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