Three True Stories

Public domain photo by Icetsarina via flickr.

Photo by Icetsarina via flickr.

by JENNIFER DELISLE

My child does not sleep, so I go walking with the bones of the dead. The stroller wheels click along the path, trees frame panes of light across the rows. The plots, green and even, are misnamed, trading stories for simple verse, for peace….

Jennifer Delisle is the author of The Bosun Chair, a hybrid of poetry and family memoir. Read “In Pleasantview Cemetery,” “Two Prints,” and “Peonies”

disjointed: notes on healing

by Sung Yim

fistula \fis·tu·la\ an abnormal connection between organs.      I’m freshly eighteen years old. The piercer clamps my tongue with forceps and says oh, that thing’s just begging to be pierced. This discomfort is layered and hard to describe. His rubber gloves are smooth as what skin, I think, should be like. He hands me a pamphlet […]

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Of Ramadas and Monsoons

by Philip Kobylarz
Photo by Phil Scoville via Flickr

  People who collect more cars than they’ll ever need in a lifetime live in prison camps of their own design, addicted to crack or heroin or a combination of alcohol and air conditioning that leaves them listless, pale as whale bone, or blacker than highway tar, and trapped in a bleak moonbase of existence […]

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Current

by Renee Igo
Lighnting by LonghornDave via Flickr

  In between the flash and boom of thunder, I count eleven seconds. Though it’s the middle of the night, we’re both awake, lying face-to-face closer than the four-person tent necessitates. Between the next flash and boom, I count nine seconds. Wordlessly we sit up, preparing to move outside. To wake our students, and sliding […]

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Someday They Will Both Wield Hammers

by Glenn Lyvers
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Three Poems

by Erica Goss
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When We Were Birds

by Joe Wilkins

The light shifts here, the angle lengthening through the curtained window in the back. The boy’s face, however, remains sharp and clear. Perhaps, too, there should be some rising nighttime sound: the sighs of an old house, the susurrus of a city, a gentle wind worrying the windows.

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The Absurdity of Curling the Curled

by Saeide Mirzaei
Photo by Nahid V via Flickr. Creative Commons License.

Does curly chest hair get any curlier when twisted around a forefinger? He’s stressed out again, and he’s doing it. It’s an automatic unbuttoning of his shirt’s top button, followed by a twisting of a bundle of curly chest hair pressed lightly between two fingertips. It’s a continuous twisting and untwisting. He once explained to […]

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Witch Cake

by Tammy Robacker
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