Reading Room

Knowing Better

Nothing that bad happened to me. Certainly nothing out of the ordinary. I was lucky. I wasn’t raped. I wasn’t sexually assaulted. At most, I was sexually harassed. Cross out at most. I was. And even that is so complex and equivocal and tenuous. Nothing that bad...

Nicomekl River

Nicomekl River

A trace of her hair tucked away, his skin beneath her nails. Each square reminded him of hopscotch. Her head like a tetherball. What kind “The loneliest thing in the world is waiting to be found.” —Sarah Linden, The Killing A trace of her hair tucked away, his skin...

Boys Will Be Boys

Boys Will Be Boys

Okay, or entitled little shits Okay, or entitled little shits until taught not to throw sand, “bitch,” direct punches. A catchphrase can be cute, explain away aggression, catcalling, rape. Blame, “can’t help themselves.” Try putting other words there, say, “choice,”...

The Disappearing Woman

The Disappearing Woman

With her new magic, she makes you invisible. With her new magic, she makes you invisible. The women with black eyes do not see you, in your bare sleeves, your tired, unmarked face. The women with black eyes can say doorknob. Can say staircase and fell down. She...

I Was Once That Girl

I Was Once That Girl

If I had to describe myself at twenty, this is what I would write. A hyper-verbal, defensive, funny, and skinny skate betty. A poet, thin-skinned and capable, ambitious and in love with the idea of love. A lonely girl from a big family who was open to everything and...

On Receiving Bad News

On Receiving Bad News

We, women, grew hungry, ate from a pile of unassuming, pleasant rocks. They fell down our throats, slipped into the blankness of our bodies. We, women, grew hungry, ate from a pile of unassuming, pleasant rocks. They fell down our throats, slipped into the blankness...

for play

for play

This is a game for girls: putting a hat on the cat, putting pants on the cat, drawing a turkey by tracing her hand. Little girls like cats. 1 This is a game for girls: putting a hat on the cat, putting pants on the cat, drawing a turkey by tracing her hand. Little...

Penknife

Penknife

I don’t remember much of the train, but I remember William who gave me his engraved penknife at the station I don’t remember much of the train, but I remember William who gave me his engraved penknife at the station that spring in Pisa. Jordan at the other end in...

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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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ROOM 48.2 TRAVELLERS

In ROOM 48.2 TRAVELLERS we reflect, dream, manifest. Join us in these human ways of time-travelling, from infancy to the future, through relationships and into surreal realms.

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