Maddie Bowen-Smyth reads an excerpt from "Mind Your Hat", coming soon in Wrongdoing's third issue5/12/2022
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Transcription: "Reading the headstones feels like the polite thing to do but I cannot keep my eyes from the short-lived living. Green-veined white butterflies flicker up like ghosts between the graves and there are so many more ladybirds than I expected. I feel like I should feel something heavier: all these nested bones and wars and moss-skinned grey angels, stones studded with yellow snails the names and dates going out like muffled bells but right now, in this forest of death I do not want to think about dying. Right now I am counting our ladybirds. Right now I am Instagramming leaves. I take your hand in mine and say it must be weird here at night but what I am really saying is that with you, death itself is just a Victorian-themed adventure playground: quaint and delicious; well-scripted, almost fun." Debrah Miszak reads an excerpt from "Gods & Mentors", coming soon in Wrongdoing's third issue5/10/2022 Transcription: "I finger the cake lid off and toss it. We know everything can whittle down to a moment. I walk for miles in the snow 3 AM after fucking the doctor. He drowned swimming the lake away all summer. At the park with the brothers I tell them a metaphor. The fountain is a hole. The mommy is a witch-doll." </>blockquote> Emily Jaster reads an excerpt from "Sauerkraut", now available in Wrongdoing's second issue3/11/2022 Bryce Baron-Sips reads an excerpt from "Cow Eyes", now available in Wrongdoing's second issue1/24/2022
TRIGGER WARNINGS: gore, unhealthy relationships, sexual shame, internalized homophobia
​ Dzikamayi Chando reads an excerpt from "Abdication", now available in Wrongdoing's second issue12/24/2021 Josephine Wu reads an excerpt from "ankle-deep", now available in Wrongdoing's second issue12/16/2021 Rodney Wilder reads an excerpt from "Firstfruits", now available in Wrongdoing's second issue12/7/2021
CWs for the poem: ethnic oppression, ghettoisation, racist cliches, witchcraft, sexual violence
​ Sarah E. Azizi reads an excerpt from "On the Job", now available in Wrongdoing's second issue10/28/2021
CWs for the poem: binge drinking, depictions of sex, self-harm, sexual assault, victim blaming, complex PTSD
TEXT: "I make a Sprite can disappear in my mouth" – Lil’ Kim Every night during a bland July, I went to the bar ready to put as many bodies after him as the summer could hold. Home-grown panacea, I choked on the cloud of sweat from all the real people clotted outside the doors. Pretended to be just like them. I would drink to gut rot. Until every noise ran from my head. Burned my bestiary and dizzied into a different kind of ache. Summer Hammond reads an excerpt from "Disfellowshipped", forthcoming in Wrongdoing's second issue10/15/2021
TW: miscarriage, spiritual abuse
TEXT: “My mother was baptized and raised in the Catholic church. Her miscarriage had struck when the nursery was already painted, a mural she’d done by hand, redbuds and dogwoods, the trees that sequined the Ozarks in spring, and made April my mother’s favorite month. In her grief, she’d sought solace from her priest. She’d asked him, “Is my baby girl in heaven?†And received the unwelcome revelation that April Ann’s small, unbaptized soul was stuck in Limbo. My mother said that's when the nightmares began. Her baby girl trying to slither under a smoldering steel bar held aloft by grinning demons, set lower and lower still. Her baby girl weeping and wailing, inconsolable, trying to get under that bar without touching it, the bar bursting into flames, the demons laughing, and Mom couldn’t reach her, couldn’t rescue her, and there was no God.†Akira Ritos reads an excerpt from "candy red apple zippo", forthcoming in Wrongdoing's second issue10/13/2021 TEXT: “my father is perched on our staircase, arm leaning against the walls. he is lazy, drowsy in his movements and eye-crust dotted on the bridge of his nose. i linger by the fridge, intrigued as he tells me of his time spent in saudi arabia, when the old sun was burning his body and a cig was permanently plastered in his index and middle fingers for hours on end. my father drawls out that he spent his pay on packs each day, smoking till something in his heart gave, whether it was a beat, a sputter, an ache, the ashes piled together to fill the spaces in his empty home.†​ Jade Liu reads an excerpt from "Letters to Nabokov", forthcoming in Wrongdoing's second issue10/11/2021 TEXT: Somewhere in America, a butterfly is flying. You would love it staggered with daylight, a white-rimmed forewing held in provocation to the wind. See, you would know those greying blue cells mean vulnerability. You take a few home anyway. On paper sheets you spread the paralyzed body and sketch every vestigial vein and thrust the thinnest pin through the crackling thorax. Dedicate it to Véra. |
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