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Here are the Winners of Room’s 2018 Cover Art Contest!

Here are the Winners of Room’s 2018 Cover Art Contest!

The results are in! Congratulations to the following artists on winning Room’s fourth Cover Art Contest! You can find the first place winner’s work on the cover of our very next issue, 42.2, and the second place winner featured in the same issue. We want to give a...

Troll

Troll

He's a mean one, Mr. Troll I wonder what soured his soul enough to tell me I was not attractive enough to worry about being raped? He’s had a hard day at work gets off the elevator at his floor, rattles the key to his apartment door. Once inside, his briefcase slams...

Ripples of Darkness

Ripples of Darkness

A mother's hands stack clean needles, latex gloves. For our children, she says, for the lost ones. For the ones we've saved many times before, For the ones we hope to save just one time more. Why, neighbours ask while politicians gloat. Why chain the monster only to...

Who am I

Who am I

“And if you are not a bird, then beware of coming to rest above an abyss.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche Not an addict but a deflowered thorn, a queen of spades with a punch-hole. A birthday present unwrapped too quickly. Not a junkie but someone who’s put hope in the washer...

10 years to yes

10 years to yes

this is my third war* may 2009 if you can’t see me does it mean I don’t exist yes if you see me but you don’t see what makes me me does it mean you don’t see me yes if you cannot see that the thing that makes me me hurts burns ashes all over if you cannot see me shall...

Satiate

Satiate

This is what I can tell you: On a June night in 1986, my mother drinks from a tall glass of ice water. The radio might be on. If it is on, she is listening to Patti or Luther or The Pointer Sisters or Whitney. She might be singing, voice off-key but still rising...

for my sister

for my sister

it’s a drunkintheafternoon kind of day wrung out acronyms come up on my keyboard instead of my sister’s name it’s a drunkintheafternoon kind of day wrung out acronyms come up on my keyboard instead of my sister’s name this is the place of the abbreviated    form...

Dust

Dust

he traces the tattoo of Africa on my back tells me how he wants to go back to Sierra Leone he traces the tattoo of Africa on my back tells me how he wants to go back to Sierra Leone I want to ask him how he can love a mother land that chewed and spit him out like...

Baby Food

Baby Food

“Baby Food” is the honourable mention of Room’s Short Forms Contest 2018 as selected by judge Hiromi Goto. We called it baby food. We were secretive and gleeful. At fourteen, we’d outrun our periods—literally—clomping down Kimberly Hill with such exaggerated...

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ROOM 49.1 NO FUTURE FOR WHO?

We are really asking. We are coming in hot. We are not fucking around. These existential crises, these states of emergency. The poetry, prose, and art in this issue ask: what are we to make of, or in, them?

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ROOM 48.3 Rest/Unrest

In Room Magazine 48.3 Rest/Unrest, may you find rest as you engage with profound, necessary unrest.

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