For those Sunday afternoons caught between doing nothing and everything,
for the insomnia-driven, for the wanderers and wonderers,
for the unwritten stories of a blank page: please—tell us your story.

The cougar expands her red mouth

“After so much stalking, / after so much waiting, my body’s secrets traverse the sky. / I shiver with the
lightness / of lost lies, wanting more, a bird nest untangled.”

By Lynn Finger

a summer fling that could have been

“we dance around the words for weeks, / sidestepping goodbye in the hallway / because i still run into you in the kitchen every morning / and watch you making toast. / you cross your arms as the bread darkens, / morning sunlight stitched into your ponytail.”

By Zoe Cunniffe


“if butterflies were / climatologists, we would have solved global warming by now. if we too sensed everything in the / air around us, if we let the earth move our bodies instead of changing the ground beneath our / feet, we would be a planet of beautiful things”

By Maia Joy


“He runs his hands down braille arms, rests his fingers inside hand-painted indents stretching taut against my hips.
You’re so beautiful, he says, why haven’t we done this before?”

By Magi Sumpter

I wished on my eyelash and my father built my closet with his bare hands

“My mothers side of the closet empty, the shoulders swallow sympathy for the living. I hate / talking... the palm tree watches me as it suffocates with smoke. Does the rain know it / evaporates? I hope they don’t let me die at my funeral.”

By Tanya Castro

Looking for
old work?

We group all our writing by the month in which they were published;
to view work from previous months, check out our archives page.

Your Work Here.

We’re always looking for new pieces to be published in Anser Journal. We’ll respond to all submissions within one week.