**** Mrs. Beasley’s Lessons I. Mrs. Beasley: my mother presents her as a hand-me-down. I instantly dislike the doll for the stain, suspiciously pooh-colored, on her blue polka-dot outfit. So I toss Mrs. Beasley in my bedroom’s extra closet—the one that contains my mother’s evening gowns and dress shoes, which hang in floor-length shoe bags. […]
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The Pieces
collapse/collabi/to slip together or: an anatomy of snakes
by Allegra Wilson
The two-headed California Kingsnake thanks its InstaCart Shopper by name. It never calls the cops, but has no training on the gun range. Good with operations, the snake divides its labours: One head for dreaming, one for mourning. The Dreamer visits redwoods and listens to the voice of god; subtle airplane in the canopy. It […]
Critic in Residence Program
MAYDAY magazine invites critics of all disciplines to apply for its Critic in Residence Program. This program is a four-month digital residency, and we require no travel or fees on the part of the applicants. The overall aim of the residency program is to help young critics get a foot in the door, provide an […]
Roses For Edgar Allan Poe
Zhao Dahe, translated from the Chinese by Yuemin He
献给爱伦·坡的玫瑰 ROSES FOR POE 我们到达巴尔的摩正好是1月19日。在宾馆住下后，我对妻子说，我带你去个地方。干吗？向大师致敬。 We arrived in Baltimore not earlier or later, but exactly on January 19. After checking into our hotel, I told my wife I was taking her somewhere. She asked what it was for. I said, to salute the master. 谁？ Who? 埃德加·爱伦·坡。 Edgar Allan Poe 我穿上黑色的风衣。我的衣服差不多都是黑色的。勒上格子围巾。要有一顶礼帽就好了，我说。妻子觉得奇怪，说，你从不戴礼帽的。我说是，可是今天不一样。有什么不一样？我说今天是埃德加·爱伦·坡的生日，我们去他的墓地，献花。 I put on my […]
Kaddish
by Matthew Isaac Sobin
In “Kaddish”, Matthew Isaac Sobin considers language’s limits in both prayer and poetry as the speaker delves into the difficulties of myriad types of translating: not just meaning, but also spirituality, ritual, intimacy, grief. What suffices? When grief calls us, what language becomes enough?
“Let us bless transliteration
and chant
congregate right to left
to crest cold wind
[..]
Is one enough
to reach
the ear of God?”
In Honor of Juneteenth
These words, spoken by civil rights leader James Forman more than 50 years ago, ring true to this day. This week, we acknowledge Juneteenth as a mile marker on our journey to true liberation for Black people in America, with a renewed commitment to stay the course.
Stigmata
by Gabriella Graceffo
Halfway up a mountain, I’m desperate to see a ghost. Not the way I used to be, letting faucets drip at night, leaving light switches half-flipped; a dozen small gestures begging supernatural interference. Now I look for ghosts to understand why my body feels more haunted than any place.
No Story
by Himan Heidari
“Once, there was a little girl” no, not a girl, let’s make it a boy this time and wait, this is not a good way to start a story at all.
A Cow Stood In the Field
by Louise Bierig
A cow stood in the field. Amanda didn’t hesitate, but walked right over. She was paying $75 an hour to hug this cow, why hesitate? It would be her first hug in over a year.
