January 2010

Issue 32

 


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THE PILLORY
By Paul Lisicky

A replica of a pillory in a replica of a Colonial town.  My right arm into the right hole, my left arm into the left.  My neck went right through the center.

NOT LIKE YOU
By Katherine Gries

I’m memorizing a license plate number, which I glimpsed when he grabbed me by my ponytail, punched me, and dragged me into his truck.

CROSSWORDS
By Gary Fincke

It was a way of living.  You fill in every space without being able to verify your answers.  Like a variation on faith—if you could check, what was the point of the struggle?  If the answers were available, life was cheapened.

CLOSING TIME
By Jen Percy

He dried his hands off with a towel, ran his fingers through his black hair and described the way the hot water was still running when he found her hanging from a cord in the shower.

NEW CRAFT ESSAYS

In our Craft Section, Kerry Cohen, Jim Heynen, and Lisa Gill look at ways of silencing your internal judge, steps toward becoming your own best critic, and the necessity of "navel gazing."

JULIO AT LARGE
By William Bradley

I agreed with my father out loud, but in my heart of hearts I knew that this quiet, bored girl I’d never really thought about before was now the bravest and coolest person I’d ever met. 

KNOCK, KNOCK
By Hilary Selznick

When I wake up in the middle of the night, I slide my hand and feel for his and I can’t find it. The bed is empty and the sheets where he lay are cold.

AS I UNSCREW: A LETTER
By Laurence Ross

... soon I will just strain the gin straight out of the stainless steel cocktail shaker, the gin swirling and cloudy cold in the glass like St. Mary Lake with her glacial residue ...

MAY SHOWERS
By Jennifer Anderson

His hands move down the arc of his wife’s hips, as if it were the first time they touched. And she is calm. Her eyes close.

INSTINCTS
By J.T. Bushnell

It's the pale blue of the channel I'll remember best, the force of the water there, its depth and danger. Mom has warned that its current can yank and swallow us.

AFTERMATH
By Elane Johnson

He reached around behind the seat and dropped the brown sack, crinkled around the shape of that bottle, dropped the medication that would lace his blood, staunch his pain, dropped it right at my feet.

BECOMING A SANVICENTEÑA
By Kate Hopper

The youngest boy is thirteen. He watches me eat my rice and beans on the front porch, his dark eyes amused. “What?” I ask, but he shakes his head. After two weeks he finally he tells me: “You are as white as a milk worm.”

TUESDAY EVENING AT THE RUE de FLEURUS
By Carol Roh Spaulding

There, Alice B. Toklas once stepped among her growing things, tilting the delicate spout of her watering can to her petunias, her basil and thyme.  Inside, Gertrude was busy making their “there” there. 

NEW BOOK REVIEWS

On our Book Review page, Kelly Ferguson reviews Sonja Livingston's Ghostbread, Stephanie Susnjara reviews Susan Cheever’s Desire: Where Sex Meets Addiction, and Sarah Werthan Buttenwieser reviews Ann Hood’s Comfort: A Journey Through Grief.

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authors retain copyright over individual works

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