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  Front cover:
  Allison Schulnik
  Lady with Unicorn, 2015
  Courtesy of the artist and Mark Moore Gallery, Culver City, CA

EAGER by Allison Schulnik from Allison Schulnik on Vimeo.

  Introduction
  THE CALENDAR OF A QUARTERLY — at least this quarterly —
  is marked up most heavily in its moments of overlap. For
  instance, today, this day in early spring, as I ruminate over a
  table of contents that will come fully into the world next
  summer, I am accompanied on my side table by our
  first issue of the year. . . .

  Cinco de Mayo, a poem by Alicia Ostriker
  WHAT'S THAT MOB in the playground where I meant to sit
  in sunshine read my book what’s that uproar
  P.S. 371 annual party a line for food
  a dozen miniature soccer games around the pool no rules . . .

  On Grief, an essay by Naira Kuzmich
 
IMAGINE HERE, if you will, at the start of all this, the wail of
  the duduk . A low cry that stretches long, a dancer’s hand
  reaching back and reaching forward, a weaver’s thread
  pulled taut and trembling. . . .

  from Adua, a novel excerpt by Igiaba Scego,
    translated by Frederika Randall

  I AM ADUA, daughter of Zoppe. Today I came upon the deed
  of Laabo dhegah, our house at Magalo, in southern Somalia.
  It was hidden away in an old felt bag in storage. It had been
  there for centuries but I had never laid eyes on it.. . .

  The Light, the Bridge, and the Fish,
    a poem by Kathleen M. Kelley
  WHEN MY mother asked me
  what in the world I wanted, we were
  driving across the Sagamore Bridge.. . .

  What Size Is Yours, a poem by Robert Dow
  MY PAST is the size of my head. My head is somewhat smaller
  than a bowling ball. And about the size of a crystal one.
     My past
  seems much larger than my size 7 and ¼ head can handle.
  How do you handle it? How do you hold it up? I’m asking you

  The Flame of an Idea, a story by Jorge Yglesias,
    translated by Peter Bush

 
HOUR AFTER HOUR Henrietta sits on her bed of dry leaves,
  head bowed and beautiful, never stirring or saying a word.
  When the rays of the twilight sun project a cross over the
  middle of the cell, her jailers are moved by its impact on
  the maiden . . .

  Showing What Cannot Be Said: Total War and the
    International Project of Modernist War Writing, Part One,
   
an essay by Nil Santiáñez
  WRITING ABOUT WAR is intrinsically difficult. Yet with the
  increasing complexity of warfare in modern times, the means
  for fully comprehending and portraying military conflicts have
  become still harder to grasp and articulate.. . .

  Dollmaker, Inventory, Child, a story by Erin Fortenberry
  Oren loves the supply closet. He loves to go in and close the
  door behind him, to breathe deep the Christmas scent of
  adhesive, to run his fingers over the open boxes of Onyx
  micro-tips, G-2 refill cylinders, and unsharpened No. 2 pencils.
  He loves to choose these things and, finally, to steal.. . .