Some Elks Lodges glitter like country clubs; this one used to be a motel with a pancake house attached. In the parking lot, stretching after the hot drive, there is a pretty girl in a black dress. Not one of you. But she must be, no one but your party, the party assembled for your uncle’s funeral,…
The Elk’s Funeral
‘Against each wall stands an ornate throne—junk, dark Victorian junk, pulled by crowbar twenty years ago from the old lodge in the doomed downtown. Sitting on each is a battered looking Elk in a frayed tuxedo or black suit, his shoes cracked as the skin around his eyes. You feel sure they will sleep, and soon.’
Black Lives Matter
Ariel Saramandi on her experience teaching in a lycée in Mauritius.
The Young Entrepreneurs of Miss Bristol’s Front Porch
Fiction by Sidik Fofana, set in the South.
Kevin Maxwell on the police in the UK.
Morgan Parker and Rachel Long in conversation.
Poetry by Danez Smith, author of Don't Call Us Dead.