by Anna Dodson August was quiet this year.My evening chamomile seepedoutside, the figs lappedthe sky like pea blossom and lemon juice.The glass, a white diamondrefracting all that quiet on the gloom. I miss you most of all, my darling.Heat fogged the window like two lovers in the backseat,jazz flute on…
by Anna Dodson August was quiet this year.My evening chamomile seepedoutside, the figs lappedthe sky like pea blossom and lemon juice.The glass, a white diamondrefracting all that quiet on the gloom. I miss you most of all, my darling.Heat fogged the window like two lovers in the backseat,jazz flute on…
by Bill Foley The last time Walt peed in the bed, Brenda’s pajamas were the collateral damage. “Walt, wake up!” she whispered. “Are you wearing your Depends?” “Huh?” he grumbled. “Oh my God, not again.” Now shouting disgust and frustration, Brenda ran into the bathroom, pulled off her pajamas, and…
by Andrew Furst i am not wanting light. but i warm to it, moving with the situations towards the angels i’ve been looking for. equaling the coastline and the sparkling worldliness of sunsets the new year tries to rebuild me as springtime meadows are constructing summer out of the long…
by Chris Litsey My outlines were drawn in with horse hoovesAnd fleur-de-lis stabbings, tinging the linesWith a ruddy, rusty coloring that reminds meOf my blurred, wavy reflection of the wide,Wild river I called home, but the effectsOf the Commonwealth never seeped pastThe bold lines that could be made outFrom farther…
by Anna Dodson A part of me thinks I loved you mostthat summer. Amid sickness and in health,we took the furthest parking spot,then plundered empty grocery aisles. Each with our own mini-shopping cartto parallel-play in hoodies and shorts,we blocked an entire row. You said,“Aren’t we being so domestic?” You stood…
by Annh Browder My mama always said that flies were the first sign that something had died. When autumn came and our garden would die, flies would soon follow. They would lay their eggs in the dead plants’ husks, and, eventually, those eggs would hatch. I would often watch them…
by Andrew Furst it strikes me how people who want to stay the same have to change so much. so much, that the tides seem to move with them, a busy kind of inertia. i’ve seen them happy, i’m sure of it. cleaning their gutters and mowing their lawns. savoring…
by Angela Townsend If Lana knows that people underestimate her, she does not show it. She shows up to committee meetings with freshly purpled hair. It is not intended to be subtle or ironic, qualities that search in vain for a place to touch down in Lana. Big birds have…
by Allan Deligi Tom wasn’t the kind of man people noticed—not in a good way, anyway. He moved through life like a shadow, a worn figure. His once-thick, vibrant-red hair had receded into a few pale, wiry strands that clung stubbornly to his scalp. His ears stuck out too far,…
by Alex Carrigan After Erik Fuhrer. For Cici Cooper, Scream 2 (1997) Sober Sistersitting on thesofa surfing channelspast the static,suppressingthe silence ofthe sorority house.Sober Sistersacrifices a nightof shots, slipsof tongues in kisses,sentimental momentsof a sorority life.Sober Sisterspeaks on the phoneto a stranger,stumped to findshe’s specifiedto die tonight.Sober Sister,sinner in the…