A Psalm to Say these Words until I Can Hear Them
By Poetry Issue 62
I will my soul to waken, and my soul does not wake. My mind busies itself, remembering forgotten songs from my adolescence. My mind recalls anything, so as not to listen. I will my hands to be calm, Lord, and they fly to my teeth to crease my nails. Lord, I will myself to be…
Read MoreThe Reflection
By Poetry Issue 71
An unexpected reflection of myself in a passing window glances this way then after a quick double-take recognizes me. Like me, she’s caught by surprise; no time for the split second preparations that tend to precede looking in a mirror, or to hide the disappointment in her eyes, her sense that had we met incognito…
Read MoreConfirmation Man
By Poetry Issue 70
And who looks like his passport photo, may I ask? The man often lost his cool at immigration counters and customs and wherever documents met metaphors of the frailty of life. Look carefully, officer, behold what a little less beard has done for youthfulness overflowing from a face no torment could mar? Yes, I see,…
Read MoreTo Make People Wonder: The Collaborative Portraits of Fritz Liedtke
By Essay Issue 78
HER MOUTH is taped shut. That’s what gets your attention first. At first glance, a photograph like this might trigger alarm or suspicion. But context is everything. Look again, and see how those temporary tattoo lines spiral like fiddlehead ferns from her eye to her ear, and that speck of blue glitter gleams on her…
Read MoreLooking Good
By Short Story Issue 79
THAT YEAR IN INDIANA, June landed like a fire arrow. It was surprising, and—for the immediate avenue it opened with those strangers who demanded interaction with Jan in the grocery line or at the gas pump—a relief. She knew she could sigh a little, wag her head as if asked to bear a great and…
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