Author Archives: tributaryjournal

Dear readers, I could not be happier to release the Spring 2026 National Edition of The Tributary. This edition blew my expectations out of the water with the amazing work we received from not just all over the U.S., but worldwide. Sharing in greater experiences has been a leading philosophy this year, and while IContinue reading “Letter from the Editor, Spring 2026”

Poetry Abbey Bowman (she/her) is a feminist fiction writer, poet, playwright, and designer from Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. She is a senior English major with a concentration in creative writing and a minor in theatre at Commonwealth University – Bloomsburg Campus: Pink Bismuth Anupama Choudhury (she/her) is a Creative Writing student pursuing poetry. She draws inspirationContinue reading “Contributors – Spring 2026”

No one else can see them. No one except the Daughter, that is. In her Family, there is a Daughter and a Son, both quirky and opposite of each other, and there is also a Mother and a Father, who have a toxic relationship that never gets addressed. None of them look alike, but thatContinue reading “No One Else Can See Them – Celia Bonawandt”

Content Warning: This piece discusses homophobia, discrimination, and hate speech directed at LGBTQ+ people in Africa. It includes depictions of social and familial rejection, historical references to medical abuse, and job loss due to sexual orientation. It directly references suicide. Readers who may be affected by these themes are encouraged to engage with care. HomosexualityContinue reading “A Most Difficult Life: Ignorance Takes on a New Meaning in Africa – Tony Njoroge”

I wonder if my grandfather ever tires of people whispering around him. If their hushed tones grate on his deafened ears, or if he has enjoyed living his life in silence. He must know by now, after all these years, that what is said under one’s breath is likely something he would not want toContinue reading “My Grandfather’s God – Kayleigh Papagelis”

On most weekday mornings in Tokyo I board the Keiyō Line with a small stack of vocabulary cards and the quiet determination of a man who has decided, midlife, to become illiterate again on purpose. I mouth syllables under my breath. A, i, u, e, o. Ka, ki, ku, ke, ko. The train rocks gentlyContinue reading “Shisa Kankō…Pointing, Calling – Zary Fekete”

Schroeder thinks he’s too good for the morning races. Instead of beating the pavement, he sits above the world: the flat-top of the American Bank building on the corner of 11th and Lehrer. The building was the peak of architecture when it was constructed around the time that Ellis Island was hemorrhaging the tired andContinue reading “Razing the Structure – Luccas Hart”

Franz Kafka moved in with me today into my rented flat with a broken radiator hissing like a dying animal. His hair is greasy with the slime of the grave. His bald pate, coloured like a palm tree in the middle of an oasis of hair, shakes dandruff sequins from the desert mirage onto theContinue reading “An Ax For the Frozen Sea – Rebecca Gould”

It wasn’t every day one got invited to a dead man’s party. In fact, it happened at night.             Join us, the words echoed in Danya’s dream, a wispy hand beckoning her. Join us betwixt midnight and dawn… bring pizza…             She stepped over the faces of the damned to nab a flatbread with ghostContinue reading “Dead Man’s Party – Asher Frost”

“Why don’t we start with the bodies in the trucks,” Franklin said, placing his cell phone on the table in front of his empty glass and pressing record.     “Just keep my name out of it,” Lopez replied. “Don’t worry. You’ll sound like a cross between a mob informant and a serial killer.” They sat inContinue reading “Transgression – Frank Matozzo”

Aidan Gallagher lay in his hospital bed, eyes plastered open, the first time he heard the wailing. To most, the banshee’s cry would be something to fear. But to Aidan, it meant he would soon embark on a new journey.             Aidan pined for his death as one would long for a lover. A two-timeContinue reading “Forever After – Mickey Black”

do you know that old Pink Bismuth™ commercial,             Bambi-eyed wife with the heatless curlers and the shrew voice that sat in her nose?             the one who called her husband darling and dear and mon petit chou? the one in the teaberry bathrobe?             do you remember her? all dolled up she used toContinue reading “Pink Bismuth – Abbey Bowman”

Picked up and taken to sea in her dying waves melting across rock and sand smashing its arms into boulders eager to bruise I’m sinking in the bathtub with melting ice above craters like whirlpools near my feet taking ships and whales sucking us all the below where infinity spheres bodies loop around rope tiedContinue reading “My Bathtub (the Pacific) – Breanna Jones”