i. In late October, daylight stood with one leg in the dark. A boy swung himself through his unzippered jacket to work his feet up. Then monkey-handed he headed for a part of the branch he was heavier than and bobbed there like a hunk of suet. But with girls it was different: you came…
This empty feeling that makes me fearful I’ll disappear the minute I stop thinking May only mean that beyond the kitchen window, in the dark, The minions of the past are gathering, Waiting for the dishes to be cleared away So they can hustle supper into oblivion. This feeling may only mean that supper’s…
—And yet this great wink of eternity October was what it had already become when I entered the walled graveyard, the air golden and remote in the last minutes before evening. A bedstand and springs made the gate, pulled aside, and the stones faced the sunset, all those not overturned, flung …
How charitable to call it fruit, when almost nothing inside it can be eaten. Just the gelatin that thinly rinds the unpalatable seed. The rest of it all pith, all bitter, hardly a meal, even for a thin girl. But enough, at least in the myth, to be what ties Persephone half the year to…
The world will be no different if the twin sisters Disputing now in the linen aisle of Kaufman’s Resolve their difference about table napkins, Whether the color chosen by one is violet Or lavender or washed-out purple. No different, But that’s no reason to deem the talk insignificant. It’s important for people to make distinctions,…
They left her alone; it was what she wanted. The bay waters had not been so secret for a long while, their great labor quiet. She rowed over the calm of the ebb to an island of birds—heron, cormorant, egret waiting in the tall mangroves, placid and self-contained, as if she alone were…
While you suffered I measured flour for a birthday cake, the bleached grinding of wheat flowing from a tin scoop like water, like cold air I split walking in winter woods, snow a long white apron flung against the fissured maples, the smooth trunks of birches. While you wept I sang, the candles flared to…
Chelsea, Massachusetts “Mrs. López refuses to pay rent, and we want her out,” the landlord’s lawyer said, tugging at his law school ring. The judge called for an interpreter, but all the interpreters were gone, trafficking in Spanish at the criminal session on the second floor. A volunteer stood up in the gallery. Mrs….
i. Do they hate each other, I wonder, she who will live on and he who is dying? I fill their bird feeder with safflower. Each dip of the orange pitcher scatters seed from its lip to the earth, in ecstasy. An arc. A small rain falls down. Bruised light a nacre over everything. My…
Spring 2005 - Digital