By Adam Benamram

We used to stand on the tracks outside the tunnel and see who could stay there the longest once the lights rounded the corner.

By Arturo Cisneros Poireth, tr. Diana Sánchez Rivera

When I woke up, the pillow was soaked in black. It was sweat, and it was black. I went to the bathroom, and in the mirror, I saw a dark stain on my ear, like a dried thread of blood, but it wasn’t blood. Ashes were coming out of my ear. I scratched with my pinky finger, trying to clean it with my nail, which came out blackened.

By Kim Simonsen, T. Randi Ward

This morning the ocean has again tossed man-sized

black boulders up onto the shelves of rock along the shore.