mother’s hands were flailing against the man. Her mother’s eyes bulged, and they caused the child to freeze with fear. Too close. “You don’t deserve to be my wife,” he screamed as he shook her mother. “This is all your fault. You bitch! I never wanted a kid. It...V\'as...a...MISTAKE!" His words... Show moremother’s hands were flailing against the man. Her mother’s eyes bulged, and they caused the child to freeze with fear. Too close. “You don’t deserve to be my wife,” he screamed as he shook her mother. “This is all your fault. You bitch! I never wanted a kid. It...V\'as...a...MISTAKE!" His words shot like gunfire across the girl’s chest and tore away her fear. She slowly bent down and picked up the arm of the broken rocking chair. She lunged toward the man and hit him across the back of his neck. The girl didn’t know what happened next. She only saw the angry fire burning his red eyes. Run! She didn't know if she had thought it or if her mother had whispered it. “You little bitch,” he spat at her through clenched teeth. She began to back up, unaware of the glass shredding her feet. His blow sent her hard into the wall. She crawled into the corner and shut her eyes. Blood cooled her burning cheek. Chancellor leapt between the girl and the man. He bared his teeth and let a slow, low growl. She opened her swollen eyes. Her protector. Her mother was rubbing the purple marks on her neck. “Please, Dave, she's only a child. She doesn’t understand." He spun around and faced her broken mother. “This is all your fault, Peggy. Fuck kids. You’re the one who got pregnant. I never fuckin’ wanted Show less
either of you." Her mother was terribly wrong. She did under— stand. The man didn’t love her. She had known it a long time ago, but somehow hearing it had shattered something in the little girl. His words had pierced her soul and stolen her innocence. The man had nothing more to say. There was... Show moreeither of you." Her mother was terribly wrong. She did under— stand. The man didn’t love her. She had known it a long time ago, but somehow hearing it had shattered something in the little girl. His words had pierced her soul and stolen her innocence. The man had nothing more to say. There was nothing left to steal. He left that night. For good. The next morning the girl awoke and helped her mother scrub the man from their lives. When they had finished, the girl had called for her dog. Chancellor never came. The girl searched for him for weeks, but she never found him. She later learned that the man had returned late in the night to gather his belongings. Chancellor had been the price that she had paid for silence. She and her mother never spoke of that night, but it remained locked away in the child’s memory. Sometimes at night, her mother would curl up with her and softly sing the child to sleep. The girl would cry for her lost protector and the daddy she had longed to have. Her mother would wipe her tears and would promise that everything would work out. She told the girl that her daddy was just sick and was trying hard to be a good daddy. On these nights, the girl believed her mother. She prayed her daddy would get better and love her again. The girl never quit listening for the man’s footsteps in the driveway, and her treasures remained hidden. They stood in the doorway waiting for their cue. Show less
This was her special day. A new beginning. Today, she would be good enough. No longer a mistake. She turned toward her father and smiled as he straightened the veil across her face. Through her veil, her father's face took on a heavenly glow. She felt beautifiil. She told him that she loved him... Show moreThis was her special day. A new beginning. Today, she would be good enough. No longer a mistake. She turned toward her father and smiled as he straightened the veil across her face. Through her veil, her father's face took on a heavenly glow. She felt beautifiil. She told him that she loved him and rested her head upon his shoulder. The music began to call them. It was time. As her father began to lead her, he lowered his head close to the girl's ear. “Try not to fuck this up too, will ya?" was all he whispered as he silently led her down the aisle. The girl mechanically smiled from behind her veil as tears rolled down her painted cheeks. She had felt this way all her life. Andrea Cobery Show less
Trundle,Trundle Graceful, gangly trees joints budding full of fungus orange, white-bellied discs, exploding from their bough-wrapped nests. And twigs fishing air with leaves on worn red threads darting, quick, this way to that pitter pat Soil heaves up rocks ‘neath roots bows them up, cracks their... Show moreTrundle,Trundle Graceful, gangly trees joints budding full of fungus orange, white-bellied discs, exploding from their bough-wrapped nests. And twigs fishing air with leaves on worn red threads darting, quick, this way to that pitter pat Soil heaves up rocks ‘neath roots bows them up, cracks their skin allows a dreamer to begin to see the symmetry of every tree. Sweating arms and bicept creases lay down speckled slabs in slated paths soil heaves up rocks ‘neath boots and cracks the concrete like pie crust, under black—souled boots. Flowered dresses skip along white. white shoes bounce light, light moves dances off of teeth and lips and burgeoning tits. Sweating hands massage and knead out nipples knuckles spotted red with pimples and coarse with white hairs Show less
pores bursting spraying, arching off to spatter the wind ah, gentle lifts up, brushes weeds and carries off their seeds each lazy gust propels them up, they topple through the breeze and light among the leafless trees. Scott Bibus
Danny Boy ; i'." '0 '12) 4 mafia h t s v cmusmc: m L mm‘ssoucuuauu ~, w "53 l r ’s yum-1635mmqu ~ animuscbtoe. -~ ‘ gem 'hcug; ' ' su R'smthe yoummbabovc J , 1r. when m;&mal1my’a.- f the vullcy's huser gave nut} ‘5 'I- Iccunch .smaxeky". .‘Ilbcchem: poayouuu lino .I ' mmlgellme Chat‘ uu ’ u vcme;... Show moreDanny Boy ; i'." '0 '12) 4 mafia h t s v cmusmc: m L mm‘ssoucuuauu ~, w "53 l r ’s yum-1635mmqu ~ animuscbtoe. -~ ‘ gem 'hcug; ' ' su R'smthe yoummbabovc J , 1r. when m;&mal1my’a.- f the vullcy's huser gave nut} ‘5 'I- Iccunch .smaxeky". .‘Ilbcchem: poayouuu lino .I ' mmlgellme Chat‘ uu ’ u vcme; g %’gnallslcep 3'; Wk Jody Johnstone to\ (.n Show less
Sonnet # 4 I alone know why the midnight’s beauty Lays itself before the glory of dawn. In turn, the brilliant sun should wait as long For dusk to fulfill its own heart's duty. Shadows are cast by the sun, and truly Sustain the sun until dusk — to belong \Yith the night, where the stars burn with... Show moreSonnet # 4 I alone know why the midnight’s beauty Lays itself before the glory of dawn. In turn, the brilliant sun should wait as long For dusk to fulfill its own heart's duty. Shadows are cast by the sun, and truly Sustain the sun until dusk — to belong \Yith the night, where the stars burn with love strong. Stars are the thoughts by night of love duly. This beauty of midnight’s complexion Seems distanced by the brilliance of the sun. Forever destined by separation, Both still revolve for brief moments as one. I as well know painful segregation And still I wait in vain for you to come. Dan Madsen 26 Show less
87. We eat. We aren’t at all intriguing And by no means something permanent. The recipes of your life require reading And my line is no indeterminate, But what writ will write all your wanting, What reader page through my unnervings? The result of a sentence is its ending In forgotten concordance... Show more87. We eat. We aren’t at all intriguing And by no means something permanent. The recipes of your life require reading And my line is no indeterminate, But what writ will write all your wanting, What reader page through my unnervings? The result of a sentence is its ending In forgotten concordance or unattended burning. You gave up yourself — your learning For comfort where mistakes come for making; In our knowing shows misunderstanding So, I’ll slip away, ready for baking. Thus I have watched us grow fatter and fatter Alone king or queen, and alone is what matters. Aaron Gabriel Show less
Seven Moodiness and melancholy, your fuming fits of despair are second only to the almost delight you take in moments of self—pitying misery Comical in its tragicness, you bear the burdens of the world on such small little shoulders. And I wish I could remember what it feels like to be seven.... Show moreSeven Moodiness and melancholy, your fuming fits of despair are second only to the almost delight you take in moments of self—pitying misery Comical in its tragicness, you bear the burdens of the world on such small little shoulders. And I wish I could remember what it feels like to be seven. Sharon Rolenc 30 Show less
English Monologues V Flaming 0! Tell me why you Keep me from folly, from fellows? My lover proved himself a handyman, Sold all self, and to the profligate gallow Died when payment was made. You erect In privacy, I confess, where, I insist, For want of me (the Bible bless me) I’ve lived to where... Show moreEnglish Monologues V Flaming 0! Tell me why you Keep me from folly, from fellows? My lover proved himself a handyman, Sold all self, and to the profligate gallow Died when payment was made. You erect In privacy, I confess, where, I insist, For want of me (the Bible bless me) I’ve lived to where the devil's stockings Eighteen years. Conversing with myself that I might matriculate to world wisdom; I visited my notions and then I returned— More fashionable, more audacious by far, But no longer poor... And now I will, Having life opened and liberated to My amazement, still prefer your milk In my rich mouth. No, this made mind I'll mask and mottle in easy imagination, Adoring hand and potential procreation. Aaron Gabriel 31 Show less
Courting on the empty river shores at dusk and smothered in fog rusted iron wires whip out of cement blocks like courting serpents and gnash streams of clean air through the mist which darts and closes around half-concealed shapes great rocks that ebb out of the cloudy grey and force it, for a... Show moreCourting on the empty river shores at dusk and smothered in fog rusted iron wires whip out of cement blocks like courting serpents and gnash streams of clean air through the mist which darts and closes around half-concealed shapes great rocks that ebb out of the cloudy grey and force it, for a wink, away as liquid as the still, cool river footfalls clatter through the orange—brown pockmarked walls and shake plaster of? the tips of roots so intrusive to these halls they squirm their way through mouldy dirt and soil as liquid as the still, cool river shadows whisper, trickle out across the floor across the street in the street lamp heat come flutter down, and beat beat beat and tip tip tip and drip drip drip and slither sultry like an inky sheet darkness gathers, licks and slathers shattered clam shells tic and lift above a cloud of murk and mud the river passes over all 34- Show less
fish husks gape and spew forth trails of winding guts, lugged downstream, eaten up by snails and somewhere deep, where the yellow rock bottom drops in the sarsaparilla sludge, a stone is overturned, a belch of airjiggles up from under water logs and darkness gathers, licks and slathers Scott Bibus
Twenty Miles Up Creative Non—Fiction I barge into the house after the night shift on the Pediatric Unit. I kick my tennis shoes at the closet door, throw my scrub top and T—shirt at the couch in a futile attempt to break it, to break something. anything. Untying the thick pink drawstring I... Show moreTwenty Miles Up Creative Non—Fiction I barge into the house after the night shift on the Pediatric Unit. I kick my tennis shoes at the closet door, throw my scrub top and T—shirt at the couch in a futile attempt to break it, to break something. anything. Untying the thick pink drawstring I prepare to bombard the wingback chair with my pants when I realize the furniture isn’t you. I don't want the fight, or us, to be over. Shirtless I walk into the kitchen to get you on the phone. I have more barbs to hurl and more pleas for forgiveness. My hospital blues nearly fall to my ankles as I pick up the phone to dial your number. The kitchen table is a mess and needs to be cleared of the unpaid bills, catalogs and junk mail so I have a space to pound my head in frustration. As the phone rings I doodle stick figures shooting at one another on a post—it pad. "Promise you'll never talk to me again," you say through tears, “never call here." “Don't worry, I promise," trying desperately to make the tone of my voice defiant, I barely squeak the words out. “Bye.” you say, and hang-up. I hold the phone to my ear and let my forehead rest on the table. The silence in the phone dies with a gasp. \Vith a sudden click the dial tone hums in my car like a flatline alarm. I slip off the chair letting my knees hit the floor first. I twist, falling to the side, as my legs slip out from underneath me. My bare skin slaps the cold linoleum floor and I curl up in a fetal position. The phone still pressed tightly to my ear. I listen for your whisper but hear only the low frequency vibration of the mechanical tone. I stare up at the designer kitchen commissioned by my mother to look like earth from outer space and feel withdrawn fi'om the confines of the ordered universe. The cabinets are painted like the Caribbean Sea. I lie alone on the floor floating in absolute zero space staring at the continents and the oceans. Everything is above me, beyond my reach. The kitchen utensils become man—made artifacts visible from space like the Great Wall of China. Dirty glasses stand next to the sink like gigan- tic oil tanks. Silverware, knives with gleaming meta] handles, bottles of Australian Shiraz and Beaujolais Nouveau — lie spread over the counter giving the muddled appearance of massive urban sprawl. A dishtowel the color of farmed earth lies crusted and smelling of tangerines and rust. On the win— dowsill sits a dying African Violet in a fist-sized terra—cotta pot. 38 Show less