New World Writing Quarterly

NWWQ October 2023 sub­mis­sions are closed. We will accept sub­mis­sions again JANUARY 1–14, 2024. Below you will find the October 2023 issue of NWWQ. We thank all who sub­mit­ted –more

The First Aria

If the oppo­site of dark is light, then what is the
oppo­site of the body? Bleeding down your leg
because you can’t find a tam­pon anywhere?
That one split sec­ond before the music starts?
The fact that once you’ve watched some­one –more

(Translated from Japanese, Zuihitsu means “fol­low­ing the brush.”)

1. My cat’s eyes fol­low the brush. She feels left out, wish­ing her tongue were as wide and deep as the bris­tles I pull across my scalp, and that she could make it reach the length –more

Maybe on a Thursday, maybe tomor­row. You will knock knock knock at the door. I will be afraid to open it, hav­ing grown scarce and wan like I have. I will be afraid of all the things that aren’t love.

I will be in the kitchen. –more

Just Fine

At my annu­al physical,
when the nurse asks me the screen­ing ques­tions, I lie.
No, I am not afraid to go out.
No, I do not feel anxious.
No, I get the same plea­sure from everything
that has ever made me smile.
–more

The Cat That Eats Copper

When Yang Xin’s mom was preg­nant it was
dur­ing the Family Planning Crash-Down Campaign, and she was given
an abor­tion shot.
Yang Xin had a big life, as they said, and
sur­vived. Only she looked curled –more

     J’aimé un cheval – qui était-ce? – Saint-John Perse

The race is run.

The rest of the field is still out there, eat­ing dust.

They’ll be fine, once they get home. A rub down, an apple. Johnny Carson.

Now,

This way,

Beyond –more

I ran by Bob’s grave this morn­ing. He died on September 10th, 2016. He was only thir­ty some­thing. On his grave were some fake flow­ers and a small, stuffed Ninja tur­tle. Raphael, I think. It had red armbands.

Bob lived in the house –more

Before the first date Petra already knows how futile it all is. She is aware of how inad­e­quate she looks, stand­ing half-undressed in the mid­dle of her room, three or four dis­card­ed dress­es at her feet. Last night, unable to –more

Sour Taste

The gay guy from ear­li­er in the year still cruis­ing at the mall, more cir­cum­spect today with his mum attend­ing. Neat, well-dressed, tidy woman retain­ing her looks, uncer­tain whether she knows.

Two small amuse­ments from ear­li­er in the afternoon.

–more

I AM STRANGE

I take the leafy road
in midsummer,
below a trove of hid­den stars,
drawn by orange light
in the distance,
beyond wheatfields,
in step with a dragonfly,
like the wind’s instrument,
head­ing –more

Forget the sleazy store­front agency. I am here. Next to you. Dressed in a fray­ing trench coat with sun­glass­es made from an owl. I am liv­ing in cel­lu­loid. In a piece of black-and-white 16-mil­lime­ter film, cut hard and past­ed –more

In your next life you could be an orchid
or dan­de­lion. Who’s to say who’s better?
Fragile beau­ty or gold grit? Seriously:
it takes all kinds. Literally: everything

is designed to be what it is, to do
as it does. You can stamp your tat­too
–more

Nameless

Not look­ing for trou­ble, I avoid­ed an encounter with my for­mer friend, who shall remain name­less because nam­ing him would seem too much like con­tact. Taking walks helped clear my head, but see­ing Nameless (NL) on one of my –more

Looking Twice

—Tracy Sweeney’s Rain in Moonlight (oil on wood)

The rain strings a gloomy tune
for the line dance of trees,
the sky beats its heart drum
to silence the croak­ing frogs,
the moon veils her face
behind fleet­ing clouds.

This is a shad­ows­cape
–more

Ristorante

A nine-year-old boy, I want­ed a sir­loin steak at a neigh­bor­hood restau­rant, an Italian place on 4th Avenue in Dayton, Kentucky. The week before, I’d heard some guy at the next table ask for that, a leisure-suit man with –more

After work, I find a head­less man­nequin lying face down in my dri­ve­way. The man­nequin is dressed in a gold tuxe­do and pol­ished, black leather oxfords. A crust of red crys­tal clings to the crag­gy stump of the mannequin’s –more

Rumors to the Contrary

Tired, I was fight­ing with myself, a duel between my good and bad inten­tions. I should have known but I could­n’t pre­dict what my oppo­nent would do next. I found myself in every direc­tion in my kitchen. Where could I run? I had an ordi­nary face, thin –more

The Scitico Water Tower

Looming black beside the railroad,
the Scitico water tower
shad­ed and shield­ed my childhood
from too much sun and puberty.
Dreaming of a rail­road life,
obso­lete before I was born,

kept me pleas­ant­ly infantile.
The water –more

On a per­fect sum­mer day in Annecy, France, Valerie rides a bicy­cle down a wind­ing path toward Lake Annecy’s azure waters.

She reach­es a patch of grass by the beach and pulls a baguette from her pack.

A boat pass­es pulling –more