by Helena Fools I live on his horizon, roughly75.5 miles from eastern Madisonto my Milwaukee locationnow that he’s bought the highestpowered binoculars on the marketthere are times when he could bewatching me had those expensivelenses been pointed in the rightdirection instead of witnessingconstellations’ perpetuallypummelling down innocent,independently falling stars he tends…
by Sarah Ockershausen Delp The table is set for company. The florescent shine off the faucet is deafening. She’ll teeter in, whisking the tiles in tiny steps. Click clacking in her vintage heels as soon as the bell ting-tings on the oven. I’m cooking inside. It smells of rosemary and thyme, roasted…
by Amanda Lightner My mother called one gray February morning. “Hi, Mom. What’s up?” Pinching the phone between my ear and shoulder, I scraped cereal from my son’s bib. “Mom? You there?” She cleared her throat. “Yes. Yes, I’m here. Sorry to call so early, but I have a favor…
by Beth Bayley The snowplow in summer is a tragic thing,unable to fulfill its purpose,unhooked from the truck and left to rust and dustand maybe shelter some mice.In the winter, its gimlet eye and yawing jaw save the day,the sound of it scraping a driveway super-heroic.But in the summer, it’s…
by Sara Carey The twinkling lights in the restaurant were beginning to blur together. Emily’s cheeks were warm, her hair falling in soft tendrils around her face. She couldn’t believe she was sitting across such a handsome man, and she knew that she was way out of her league when…
by Marc Abbott Gabriel Kenney didn’t intend on adopting Poohbear and Smokey. But his son, Simon, tearfully pleaded with him after hearing that animals who stayed in the pound too long were put to sleep. “A dog and a cat? No, Simon, dogs and cats do not get along. They’re…
By Scott Beebe he was taken in 1930then subjected to theminds & subsequent proddingof scientists & philosopherswho spent much of the 20thcentury turningearthlings intobelievers he hadbelonged with them now he’s troubled& bumbles alone“it’s so dark & cold” hecries, no matteringthe hour or time of day –ironically, a thing thosepeople on…
By Matthew Bartlett Like a graceful Baisemain, anEntrechat of Bejamin’s frolicsomeHands that soften her to dance;Their eyes; white angel flamingStars praise to this God his glory,Their fiery Althaea eyes weaningInto their gowns, and spin like a streaming‘pas de bourree couru’. Such poetryTo be spread in secret,Unaware your feet are gleaning…
By Alia Weylock The hundreds of miles from Guatemala to Texas play out like a movie in my head. I see my ten-month-old daughter tucked into her papoose against my chest, and my wife Chetta clinging to my arm as we trudged the path to the United States wearily. Chetta is swollen…
By Matthew Bartlett in the fresh andante of the dawnher body is primrose.more pleasure to feed uponthan touch this one i love so much. my kitten is purringas he watches us stirringin the nocturnal down-linen of our warmth. but it is she who sleeps, while I am clandestine,eyes full-wide wearing…