Olivia curtailed her sleeping hours to fix what’s wrong some weeks before her trip. Okay, she admits on the page, it’s been a one-month slog with VISA through salons. Last night, anonymous friend and she, in lace, race to a corner where someone shouts out a window, “Congratulations.” They call back, “We’re married but…
Coyote howls outside the patio door. 3 a.m. and someone’s out of bed turning on lights, checking windows and rain starting to sound against the skylights. When we stirred the creature vanished. Isn’t that the way even here at the cusp of the arroyo? Just as when the lizard with its stumpy tail…
First a warm blanket and a voice called Joy. Then oxygen, a faint smell, and a finger monitor. A stick at the wrist and pressure, a clear-coil tube. Then a voice called Tan and something pumped. And a thick paper packet like a vest with an eye hole. Then nothing but every-colored wallpaper…
In poetry, our winner is Margaret Wright, for her poem “Accidents.” Of the poem, poetry judge Paige Lewis says, “Is it possible for a poem to be a ghost? From the description of liminal spaces (the stopped train, the empty roller rink) to the uncertainty of the ‘accident,’ to the poem’s desire for us to…
One afternoon last week, I was sitting at my kitchen table, doing an online search for Bobby Bocelli. What came up was an entry headed: Robert A. Bocelli, 54, journalist, novelist, play and screenwriter. It sounded like an obituary. My second feeling was shame and guilt about my first feeling, which had been a flash…
Dedicated to the one who “blew the minutest kiss with the barest movement of her lips” 1 The Revolution Comes on Horses When Witold Galitzki was in his late teens, the Revolution happened in Russia. People in Witold’s Galician village agreed that it was the business of Russians, and that they could keep it….
My sister’s body was found twelve days after her birthday, which was the last time I’d seen her. The silence of the interval was nothing extraordinary; we didn’t have reason to speak, and the older we got, the more reason we needed. Our family, like any other, had a certain tension built into it. Falling-outs…
Cañon City was not a city. It was a small, gossiping, high-security town in Colorado’s high desert, bordered to the west by the Sawatch Range. A home rule municipality boasting thirteen prisons and fifty churches, its ten thousand people—one fifth of them locked up—governed themselves as they saw fit and thrived on the stories, true…
after Bobby Chacon if you see it down the side of my face leave me alone if you see it in my eyes come take a look it’s difficult to rub blood out of your eye & block left hooks at the same time
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