by Centaur Lit | Apr 29, 2026 | Spring 2026
It’s all on you now. It’s unraveling. We’ve torn it. How many stitches to make the world new? Knit a deep green yarn: a symphony of whale-song, of tiny tendrilled tales unheard. Knit an ice-white net for the bear’s last stand; a paw-hold, a claw-hold for the last...
by Centaur Lit | Apr 29, 2026 | Spring 2026
(noun): the process or period of gathering in crops, as in “We helped with the harvest.” As in the bushel baskets we filled with apples the birds hadn’t yet pecked or pooped on, the apples that hadn’t gone squooshy in their rot. Those you threw at me, chanting dog...
by Centaur Lit | Apr 29, 2026 | Spring 2026
We shouldn’t have been there, passenger seat of your commodore, worrying because what if our parents found out, because the clock in our minds, always ticking, and us all limbs and rushing, clumsy with want and hurry, the windows fogged, the car a geode cave of sweat...
by Centaur Lit | Apr 29, 2026 | Spring 2026
His father, before the boy was born, had planted forsythia, a border to separate their yard on two sides from the corner of slurry-sealed alleys. “He promised that each April would be stunning,” his mother told him and paused to quietly cough. “But forsythia is a...
by Centaur Lit | Apr 29, 2026 | Spring 2026
he is a king, he has a palace, he has a pet pangolin, he has a pastry chef, he has his own physicianhe’s a princehe’s the prince’s cousin’s guardianof alpine peaks where alpine breezes dance within his alpine lungs and the weight of his body is a featherof...
by Centaur Lit | Apr 29, 2026 | Spring 2026
I wish I could tell you I found your earring when you sent me back to the battlefield, but I can’t. I sincerely tried, but it’s so miniscule, a dot amidst ten square acres of smoldering fires, corpses, and nearly dead soldiers screaming in agony, so much blood soaked...