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I am wearing the pendant you made / blue shimmer, edges worn down / I slip my finger through the center, curl around the sides / each made for a different sister, each cut from the same piece of clay, each given different selkie coats of glaze / oh, what are you creating? / stolen …

Architecture in the harp of the heart. I make my hands into watering cans. A friend cooks Condolence Lasagna. A neighbor neighbors her elder. Each day, the world asks to be born. Each day, the world wants to know who will mother the world. As I write this, garden ants snatch legs up my arms. …

Dear Reader, Let me begin by stating the obvious: we need art more than ever right now. We need honest and courageous words, and we need people thoughtfully engaging with them. Thank you for being here and taking the time to listen to the voices speaking through Issue 90 of Bellingham Review. This issue is …

We return to our remains, to what is left of usI can’t hear it. I break the voice inside me; I break it and stab it til it screams, then doesn’t screamI know that I’m going crazy when I realize this exhaustionWhen I go back to who I really wasI do not mean the place …

We were told to ground the rattles of snakes into a powderand mix it with water to form a solutionthat will ease the suffering of childbirthand prevent the foliage from turning red and yellow. The pigments rise to the surface if leftunchecked, drawing in every last packet of light that it can, pocketing the change …

They would have named you something different if you hadn’t arrived greased and furred. In the birthing room, each attending mouth drawn into every contortion of O: grief, awe, horror, growl. Your eyes were filmy, your belly radiating iron heat. Someone fed you fabrications by the spoon-full about what you could be. Love was altered …

Fish fry. Lent day. Say grace. Amen. Eat good. Eat lots. Rich laugh. Honeyed. Moonshine. Mud cake. Cookout. Kinfolks. Deep fried. Pig feet. Pig lips. Pig tails. Blood test. Big pills. Small pills. Blood stream. Sickhouse. No salt. No salt. Eat salt. Prick thumb. Draw blood. No salt. Eat salt. Kidneys. Blood clots. Put away. …

I was in a pet store buying cat litter when I learned Tay was gone. Several people were buying cat litter that evening. Also, cat food and dog food, and there may have been food of other kinds in some hands—bird, rabbit, hamster, fish—as well as the inedible things we buy to sustain the health …

Devin walks his Chow Chow, Milly, among the half-dozen spruces. Mom went to the bathroom in the looming lodge, all windows and wooden pillars and green paneling. Milly squats low to poop, legs quivering, and Dev glances around because he doesn’t have a bag to pick it up. He sees a man standing at the …

Note: The source text for this hybrid piece is Fifty Shades of Grey by E. L. James. Lee Johnson is a LGBTQIA+, neurodivergent poet. He is a master’s student at Weber State University studying Creative Writing. His works have been published by the Sugar House Review, Passionfruit Review and 30 N Literary Review. He has …