by Caroline Maun If I was showing you the house,I’d be sure to mention the century cactus,no longer there, that sent up its flagpole-sized stamenbefore collapsing under its own weight. I’d point outthe royal palm that started to fruit in 1973, and howwe had to axe open the hulls on…
by V.J. Hamilton Blue was on the bottom. The popsicle was red on the top, pointed like a rocket; white in the middle, the cylindrical fuel tanks; and blue on the bottom, where its mighty boosters would achieve lift-off. Gigi’s tongue, that slick primordial muscle, rooted around for blue. She…
by Abby Caplin A doctor only pretends to understandthe soul’s transmissions through the stethoscope,the placement of bell and drum on bare chest, simple human breath comingling with clicksof worry, raspings of self-reproach, the unpredictablebeat of chronic confusion. The details don’t matter when loneliness is undone,and the siren I hear through…
by Cathy Bown There in the passenger seat of my uncle’s old red Ford pickup was where the truth finally hit me. As I gazed out the dirty window at the golden country around me, I could see tall oak trees bursting with autumn foliage just waiting to return to…
by Jennifer Schallehn I am 22 and I have just given birth to my first child,a daughter. I run across a photo in a drawer.In it, I am 14. I have just fished the runof a musical, which I have danced in and choreographed.My arms are around two of my…
by C.S. Hanson No one is watching. Sometimes it feels like I’m in my own dream. My body wandering among the rooms of this apartment. Here in the living room, I rotate pillows on the two sofas. I move the patterned blue-and-gold ones to opposite ends of the light-blue sofa….
by Fathiya Alalawi She wanted her husbandto forever be a lionand so, created mythsabout his might.He’s in his seventies,and she misses the dayswhen he was roaring.Now, he barelystretches and yawnsin front of the TV–his favorite den–and she roars at himout of frustration.She misses the dayswhen he was troublingthe whole town.Now,…
by Emma-Rive Nelson The night was very dark, and very cold, and Lars was waiting in the dunes as the stars shivered into existence up above. His eyes were slow to adjust in the dim, frigid light, but he had spotted what he was looking for–a little bundle folded neatly…
by Jennifer Schallehn (This poem contains domestic abuse.) Your homeboy asked what you liked best about me,and you answered,“She does what I say do.”I’ve got news for you.I did what every boy said to do.I was born to it,laid out for my first baby picturesa welcome mat in rosebuds and…
by Nina Schuyler I’m watching Woody Allen’s movie, The Purple Rose of Cairo, again. Tom Baxter has just stepped out of the film and waltzed right into the darkened, popcorn-infested theater. Picture gum under the seats, on the floor. Mia Farrow, who has been in a lovely trance watching Baxter…