The Anti-Literary Magazine
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JAKE

JAKE

Dad's Toe

Dad's Toe

Later, while I’m telling Jamie the story of how Dad chopped his toe off, I get two texts from Dad’s phone. The first one is an overexposed close-up of a pearl white bone surrounded by what looks like gray and white chicken flesh. The second text says: “This is my toe.”
By JAKE Feb 21, 2023
When You're In Love With a Poet

When You're In Love With a Poet

Wind bristles my bones as I shiver through our vacant city.
By JAKE Feb 18, 2023
Paper, Plastic, and Glue

Paper, Plastic, and Glue

Her parents discussed it. Cried. Discussed it again. Her mother said she’d like to read Jennifer at least once.
By JAKE Feb 16, 2023
My mum sends all her texts as blocks

My mum sends all her texts as blocks

as if she’s speaking to you directly
By JAKE Feb 15, 2023
Cry-baby

Cry-baby

Have you ever held Death’s hand? I have. I have pulled it to my cheek and told it to slap. Stupid girl, brilliant bones. Feel it. Feel it!
By JAKE Feb 15, 2023
Family Anatomy

Family Anatomy

“I always knew my son was too good for public school,” his mother would say at the dinner table. “He doesn’t need to squabble with the riffraff in California."
By JAKE Feb 13, 2023
What if We Kiss in the North Brooklyn Industrial Business Zone?

What if We Kiss in the North Brooklyn Industrial Business Zone?

We were trying to make our way back / To the subway before sunset.
By JAKE Feb 11, 2023

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