I’m still angry, but I agree to hunt scorpions with my husband. He thinks it’ll be fun to use the blacklight I got him for his birthday.
Leo: The Lion Sleeps Tonight by Epiphany Ferrell
Dawn on the Serengeti. The watering hole is nearly empty. Leo devours the bacon-wrapped scallops in his Bloody Mary, orders another.
Leo: Lions by Emma Kernahan
They decided, in the end, to dress as lions. The Government guidelines had been very specific about wearing animal pelts to avoid infection, but Josh was chair of the local wildlife trust, so they compromised and used the costumes from a recent production of Cats the musical.
Leo: Regulus by Emjay Holmes
Lily rubbed the fibres between her fingers, coarse like coir or horsehair. She flipped Ed’s recliner on its side. It sagged, not surprising the months he’d slept there, the stairs impossible. When the pain kept him awake, he’d sit, picking out constellations through his telescope.
Leo: Natural Born Killers by Anita Arlov
The light’s hinged. You missed three texts last night. “It’s a salmon dawn,” you whisper, leaning close to wet-wipe Leonie’s chin. She stirs, sleep mucus pearling in the corners of her eyes.
Cancer: Crabbing by Batnadiv HaKarmi
When my sister painted her bedroom dark purple, and marked off the Cancer constellation in glow-in-the-dark puff paint, my mother barely blinked. “She’s working out her interests,” she said. She sounded proud.
Cancer: dolphin love & Crab Pot by Len Kuntz
i lose you in winter melon soup under a broth of cloud cover ginger slices floating where your eyes once did no chance for extradition the weight of absence and imbalance prepping a slow fade to nowhere i find a hairline fracture in the china resembling lost nerve my spoon clanging like a warped church bell
Cancer: Crab by Luke Rolfes
She clapped her hands and said “I’m supposed to love Cancers,” when she found out his birthday. Her name was Bobbi. Even though he went by Robert, she insisted they be known as the Bobbies. Her favorite restaurant was Red Lobster—imagine that.
Gemini: When Twins, Castor and Pollux, Fall For You by Beth Gilstrap
You will not see it coming. They will rush in from the northern sky. They will mimic swans. They have had so many conversations with you, equal parts divine and mortal.
Gemini: Purr by Charmaine Wilkerson
Absurd, my boyfriend said, when I blamed the cat’s flip-flop behavior on its astrological sign, the pulsing flick of its tail twisting around my shins one moment, a sudden hiss and flight towards the hallway, the next.
Gemini: I Saw Me & Fetch by Aimee Parkison
After my appointment at the clinic where the doctor informed me I would be leaving my life soon, I went to the grocery store and saw myself in the coffee aisle.
Taurus: My Taurus Mama by Francine Witte
“I have decided to become a Scorpio,” my Taurus mama says. “Scorpios,” she whispers, “are lucky in love.”
Taurus: Running With The Bulls by Sarah Salway
It was the astrologers who benefited the most when Government decided to cancel April and May. Everyone had agreed that something needed to be done as a result of the climate emergency, but as we struggled for survival, our birth signs had increasingly become our tribes.
Taurus: Bull and Trout by Patricia Bidar
My wife Maya and I agree on all the big issues. Recycling. Food. Films. Politics, local and global. I don’t touch her neck. She doesn’t muss my thinning hair. Maya’s a Taurus. Inside of her dwells a bull, slow breathing and warm. I am Pisces, the fish.
Aries: Big Dick Energy by Ken Elkes
At the Big Dick Energy workshop, Alpha Ram yells “exude horns!” right into your ear. You respond “I am the ram” and buck your hips as you’ve been taught, though you’re pretty sure his spittle went right down your ear canal.
Little Red Riding Hood by Katerina Kishchynska
Grandma gets her episodes at least once a month. She’ll grow out her jaws and if it happens on a rainy day, claws will tear out of her fingers.
Café Mozart Dreamin’ by Tracey Meloni
Judie bangs on my hotel door. “The dressmaker is here! Hurry! You have Christmas lunch with Noah at Café Mozart at 1PM!”
Conversation in Hotel Lounge by Lydia Davis
Two women sit together on the sofa in the hotel lounge, bent over and deep in conversation. I am walking through, on my way to my room.
Fun House by Robert Scotellaro
She’d gotten the fun house mirrors at an auction and had them put up in the spare bedroom.
Initiation by Stuart Dybek
The doors snap open on Addison, and the kid in dirty hightops and a sleeveless denim jacket that shows off a blue pitchfork tattooed on his bicep jogs forward beneath a backward baseball cap and grabs the purse off a babushka’s lap.