Dec 5, 2013
by Konstantina Sozou-Kyrkou
I feel my stomach bubble all day today. It’s my birthday and godfather will be here in a minute or so. He’s promised to bring me a pair of new leather shoes.
Sep 19, 2013
by Tina Barry
One autumn, a neighbor removed the hanging seats from his daughter’s swing set and trussed a deer he had shot to the top bar. I could smell it as I lay in bed.
Aug 26, 2013
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 and I whisper road trip.
Jun 28, 2013
By Steve Edwards
I see him on a cold blue February night: He steps onto the back porch to drop a garbage sack by the bin and my mother pushes the door shut behind him, turns the lock.
Jun 2, 2013
by Robley Wilson
How old was I then? I was in sixth grade, which meant I was twelve. That was another part of my uncle’s argument: I was “old enough” for the fights.
Apr 9, 2013
by Camille Griep
By the time they pull you out of the car, the party is already half over. Harry from accounting has mown through the good cheese and the VP is opening the evening’s lesser quality wines.
Jan 22, 2013
by Ian Hilgendorf
I doodled your name a thousand times a day. Even before I seen you, I knew you was made like on a potting wheel, formed together by the fires of my womb.
Jan 20, 2013
by Frank Scozzari
Mowambi was breathing hard, panting like a wild animal, his leathery face wincing in the hot African sun. He had been hit cleanly through the side, the wound causing numbness in his abdomen.
Jan 17, 2013
by Robert Wexelblatt
You will appreciate that the title of my lecture is ironic. As yet, there has been no last philosopher, nor do I think there is likely to be one.
Jan 8, 2013
by Sean Beaudoin
My room is tiny and dark and smells like sweaty sheets. The window is wide open, but there’s still no air. A heavy pre-lightning gloom overwhelms my clankity-clank fan.