by Kevin Snell He was forty, although in the river he always seemed much older. He came at the hour before dusk, when the sky bled bruised brass and the water netted all that fading fire. He was Kevin, Sergeant Turner at the time—of the 82nd Airborne Division. In town, folks didn’t ask much….
by Megan Hodges The fields remember what we meant, not said:your laugh between the rows, the dust, the hush.Some love stays quiet long after it’s fled. We named the stars, then crawled into the shedand kissed behind the rake, so young, so rushed.The fields remember what we meant, not said….
by Caitlin O’Halloran It was seconds after midnight, and an old woman was sitting on a park bench with a lit cigarette in her mouth, holding a loaf of bread in her lap. She tore off small pieces of bread and threw them to the dozens of birds that had gathered around her. She was alone for many hours, just her and the birds, who stayed with her even…