The words featured here come from the Victim Impact Statement published in Issue V of TPT Magazine. At a time when survivors’ stories are being questioned and scrutinized, we believe them. We listen. We make space for their voices.

ISSUE XII

A letter from our editor

Kintsukuroi & The Flowers by John Jeffire

She sets sail by stars to a wreck of reef Submerged in shadow. Adrift, a stormleaf That cannot settle, this woman I’ve braced Tremoring as she relives the quick taste

Poetry & Story

Lamb Cake by Deanne Ames

For many years on my birthday, my Grandma Lil baked me a cake in the shape of a lamb. Miss Lamby Cake consisted of white cake and white buttercream frosting, with shredded sweet coconut for her “fur” and jellybeans for her brown eyes and pink nose.

Personal Essay

I USED TO PLAY THE SAXOPHONE by Peter Brindley

I hold my knees to my chest, hoping pressure will still my racing heart, slow the blood, turn hyperventilating back into breath. I bury my face, flush, sticky, wet, against the concrete wall that has come to know me— hoping my neighbors won’t hear me whimper.

Poetry

Three Poems by John Brixter Tino

The spoon in the drawer trembled. The wallpaper memorized the angle of his hands. I am reporting that the doorknob turned at 11:47 pm & held the shape of fingers long after

Poetry

Blanchette by Leki

I witnessed a murder. Your father already did the deeds. There is nothing left to kill. Death leaned in and whispered the only time you were alive was the bleeding. You hid your bones inside my body. Used me as a bandage. What arms. What teeth. What eyes— those green mirages that collapsed into an endless tunnel of shadows.

Poetry

Disappear by Jia-Li

One of my most prominent childhood memories is waking up in mid-September to find all of my tooth fairy money has been stolen. With little effort, I guilted my father into admitting he had taken it to buy a fresh pack of cigarettes at my expense. Anguish poured through my chest and out my tears; I couldn’t believe a father could be so cruel. I vowed to never touch a cigarette until the day I died.

Personal Essay

seastar & hyacinthia by Sarah Butkovic

loving it all and missing you despite the fact that you only live four miles away. if i really wanted to, i could bound up those concrete porch stairs that spent years getting to know the bottoms of my shoes and knock on your squeaky screen door. the familiar smell of anise and the claustrophobic sound of caged bird wings would greet me.

Poetry

Two Poems by Wendy Jensen

A deep sense of wrongness wakes me Skin clings tightly to my bones Movement a struggle Breath rasps I twist my body out of bed Struggle into clothes Limp to the car A row. I need a row.

Poetry

Buried: The Hoard Knows by Reese Belew

Lifelong abuse of ASD-me by the herd-brained horde caused my hoard, built of C-PTSD. I abhor this hoard as the tomb of my life. I whisper, “gently, gently, slowly,” as I carefully disinter fragments of myself without collapsing the telling layers of this tel. Artifacts haunt me.

Poetry

What They Stole From Me by Shelley Tracey

The contents of my handbag, every last cent in my purse, My car key, household items, screwdrivers and a knife, A child’s blue pillowcase they stuffed with bottles of red wine, My wedding set, the golden band and nested diamond, My emerald ring, the only thing I owned that was my granny’s,

Poetry

To Be Perfectly Clear by Tracy Grinstead-Everly

So, while we’re on the subject... And yeah, I know WE are not, but you see, I still am and probably always will be, Because I know it’s been almost 40 years but He still makes random cameos in my nightmares

Poetry

Diner Spiral by Allison Whittenberg

I found a "Find your way” without a way out This maze usually given to children as entertainment.

Poetry

Two Poems by Mona Mehas

Mona Mehas Mona Mehas (she/her) is a retired disabled teacher in Indiana USA with 7 chapbooks published and one novel, Under the Bubble (Between the Lines Publishing). Twice nominated for a Pushcart Prize (Paddler Press 2023, TV-63 Project, 2025) and Best New Poet (Lucky Jefferson 2024). She works with Cicada Song Press and Engage!, an online Star Trek fan magazine. Mona is always writing while perpetually distracted by her next chapbook. Portals of Presence portals, realms

Poetry

Three Poems by Caroline Cottom

Oaring toward an unknown shore, I dream a horizon where a boat with yellow sails plies purple waters. Estelle leaves a message on my phone: Your mother is dead.

Poetry