AFTERIMAGE
Afterimage is a recurring collaborative poem created from the voices of each issue’s contributors.
At the close of every issue, each contributor is invited to offer a single line: an afterthought, fragment, image, or impression in relation to their work. These lines are then brought together into one collective poem, preserving something of what remains after the individual works have ended.
No single voice defines the piece. Instead, Afterimage becomes a record of the issue as a whole.
The result is a collective poem belonging not to one writer, but to the issue itself.
With every new issue, another Afterimage is added to the archive.
Spring 2026
The most unsettling part wasn’t the presence,
But the moment it understood it no longer
Had a place
For those we miss
For those we have missed
For those who remain missing.
We remember you
In the end,
We were all trapped
I found that more comforting than expected.
Mud and blood are the stewards of history
Tradition acts as the guiding hands; belief, the great filter
Time is not a line,
But a knot
The river and the moon keep their secrets,
There’s something scarier than ghosts, demons, and their hauntings
It’s memory
Reality
Sometimes,
Even yourself.
Summer 2026
A shadow is like a river, the shape governed by the terrain over which it travels.
The old-timers out on their boats hauling in bloodied sharks from the choppy iron waters say that the fog enshrouding the city is the Féth fíada, a veil to stop men from returning home.
We can mistake a god’s curiosity for wisdom, and its
docility for indifference, but we can never mistake love.
Shards of light are born to shine in the darkened ebbs of deeper dreams.
Our pasts will chase us no matter how far we run
Every home has witnessed joys, and also sorrows
But there is safety in memories of warmth.
When we close our eyes, the world deepens
as the acuity of colour sounds a sharpened language
while ghosts shape each of us as memory.
Fall 2026
Forthcoming
Winter 2026
Forthcoming