To celebrate National Clean Out Your Fridge Day, we asked the Lascaux staff to tell us what they’d have to hide from Marcella Hazan and Julia Child (in spectral form, of course) if the ladies were to drop by for a meal.
by Konstantina Sozou-Kyrkou
“Because the Lord loves fair judgment. He will never abandon those devoted to Him but He will protect them…”
by Tina Barry
My mother insists my bedroom was pink, but I recall the pale gray wallpaper printed with delicate ballerinas . . .
by Jane Flett
I lean forward to your ear, touch my lips to the point where the hair curls over your lobe, and I wonder about falling inside. I purse them like a kiss . . .
by William Ogden Haynes
The proprietor said the bowl / was handmade, Fenton Silvercrest. / Its white milk glass sides gently curve up / and begin to fold at the same time . . .
by Alexis Misko
I feel the kind of sticky / I should feel if this were Georgia, / if I were in an Alice Walker novel / with a fist full of blackberries / staining my southern grin . . .
by Robert S. King
A funeral director must have / a way with words that sound /more like silence. / Undertaking is an art form . . .
by Tracy Harris
We used typewriters decades ago, and carbon paper and different colors of white-out. If we made a mistake we could correct not just the original letter . . .
by Alison McMahan
Recently my husband and I celebrated our wedding anniversary, spending the day at the Vizcaya Museum and Gardens . . .
by Samantha Storey
Of all the images to come out of Saigon, your photo of the naked girl running toward the camera is the iconic one. It’s easy to imagine you there . . .
by Stephen Parrish
I have a memory that is fifty years old today: watching television with my family. There were three networks in 1963. At bedtime they played the National Anthem before going off the air.
by Camille Griep
November is a busy month with holidays galore. We’ve got turkeys and expandable pants, novels and word counts, Black Friday and Cyber Monday. But when was the last time anyone wished you a Bad Day?
by Jennifer Zobair
I have loved books by white, male authors. I have stayed up all night with them, avoided studying for the bar exam with them, sought refuge from broken hearts or unrealized dreams with them.
by Ruth Hopkins
Ahh, yes. Halloween is just around the corner. Time for pumpkin carving, Trick-Or-Treating, and women dressed like two-dollar hookers wearing headdresses.
The Lascaux Review seeks an intern to assist editors in tracking down, evaluating, and swooning over contemporary works of art destined to illustrate stories, poems, and essays that appear on the review’s website.
Wherein the Lascaux staff shares favorite epistolary novels, poems, and collections and whether they’ve ever been waiting anxiously at a mailbox.
Following is a transcript of a memorial service held for David Foster Wallace on 26 October 2008 at Underwood Park in Normal, Illinois. Twenty-one friends and relatives attended, including Jim and Sally Wallace, the author’s parents.
by Stephen Parrish
Aspiring writer, loving mother, and dear friend Chris Eldin took her life at age 46 after a long and baffling absence from public view.
by Con Chapman
There is a charity in Boston that helps the homeless by publishing a newspaper to which they contribute articles and poems.