ENJOYED BEING A GIRL
By Sheyene Foster Heller
problem was timing. I was always two seconds behind. Or the problem
was synchronicity. I spun the opposite direction of everyone else.
By Nancy Linnon
slid down the big Curly-Q slide today. The feat was too momentous.
He knew it, and so did I.
By Steve Fellner
I remember my father with his pot belly, polishing his bowling ball,
standing on the lane, taking a deep breath, getting ready to swing
his arm back and then forward.
CRACKER BARREL RESTAURANT
By Rebecca McClanahan
We left the table, the married man and I, and walked out to the porch
lined with rocking chairs, one emptied so recently it still held someone's
ON THE POLE
By Alison Fensterstock
Bobbie is pale magic on the pole. She is fair and slender and glows
under her filmy white dresses, and her long legs melt into clear Lucite
shoes whose thick platforms catch the stage lights, sending a blizzard
of silvery light swirling around her body as she whips herself around
AS IT GETS
By Sonja S. Mongar
I try to imagine my father sleeping with another woman, two heads
on pillows and bodies making dips and valleys in the blankets, faces
buried in morning shadows. He snores loudly, his hairy beer belly
rising and falling. I wonder what the woman looks like and if she’s
as pretty as my mother.
By David Bernardy
Three boy graves under three boymade grave crosses, all of us in short
sleeves waiting beneath a flat white sky shot through by water oaks.
By Leah Williams
He wore Ace bandages all over his body, but bore no injuries anyone
could see. The bandages covered his thin, muscular arms, tanned from
the daily mowing of his immaculate lawn.
copyright © 2004
authors retain copyright over individual works