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Title: Murphy Square 2010, Page 50
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: Supercell Ted Conaver “Twister lunches” they had called them, with bologna sandwiches, baby carrots, apple slices with lemon juice sprinkled on them to keep them from browning, and potato chips. South Elementary, where grades one through six went to school, had been ﬂattened by the storm. The...
Show moreSupercell Ted Conaver “Twister lunches” they had called them, with bologna sandwiches, baby carrots, apple slices with lemon juice sprinkled on them to keep them from browning, and potato chips. South Elementary, where grades one through six went to school, had been ﬂattened by the storm. The cafeteria had collapsed on itself, as had the gym. All the windows had shattered, and the roof had been ripped oﬁthe band room. A week after the storm, a farmer found a mangled tuba from Jayden‘s school ﬁfty miles away from the town in his soybeans. For months after the tornado went through the town, in art class,]ayden would draw spirals on pieces of thick drawing paper with his grey and black crayons. Going to school in a FEMA trailer almost seemed like a field trip forJayden and his little class— mates. They would eat premade bagged lunches at their desks because there was nowhere else to eat them. Luckily, the town's ﬁrst—grade elementary class, and especiallyJayden, thought very highly of cold lunches. After the storm, over three thousand people in the town were suddenly homeless. A man had died after being ripped from his truck; they never found his body. The historic courthouse of the town had had its bricks hurled through hundreds of windows, so that downtown, none of the quaint storefronts had a window left intact. But Jayden was more concerned with his bologna sandwich than anything else. Salvation Army vans had been like ice cream trucks without the bells.}ayden and his friends would laugh and chase them down the street until it would stop and nice men in uniforms gave them packages of peanut butter cracker sandwiches and juice boxes. When school was over,Jayden would go to his friends house because his own house was unlivable, and was being torn down; but Jayden hadn’t really thought about this much either. Jayden wasn't scared after March 26th, 1989, the day the supercell had rolled through. To an eight year old, life was much as it had been before the storm. But, when the tornado had been overhead, ripping the air into its core like a giant straw, Jayden had been the most frightened he would ever be in his life. 48
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Title: Murphy Square 2010, Page 62
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: I miss you because Andrea Sanow I miss you because you never made me share my laundry machine with you even though it was wasteful and weird that I insisted upon doing our clothes separately. The thought of running your clothes, shrinking or staining them, made me anxious with guilt. On Sundays,l...
Show moreI miss you because Andrea Sanow I miss you because you never made me share my laundry machine with you even though it was wasteful and weird that I insisted upon doing our clothes separately. The thought of running your clothes, shrinking or staining them, made me anxious with guilt. On Sundays,l would wake up at 7:15 am, gather up my laundry as silently as possible and go to the laundry room to put in two loads of laundry. The “green machines,” or so we called them, took 65 minutes to run a cycle. 50, with the laundry in, I put on the ugliest pair of underwear I had, slipped into my bra and outﬁt for the lazy day and waited for you to ﬁnish getting dressed. I imagined that on those mornings you only woke up because the emptiness next to you was vast and still, something you couldn’t handle. You would put your hands on the sheets where I had been and breath incantations to bring me back and when that failed you would stand up and stretch, get dressed and come to ﬁnd me. But, when I returned from the basement, we walked out the front door to go to Perkins... which was next to our favorite bar. As I got older, and got a new boyfriend who eventually became my ﬁancé,l missed those humid mornings surrounded by plastic window plants covered in dust.I missed returning to the laundry room with you to wait for my clothes to ﬁnish the spin cycle. You leaned in to kiss me and tasted like blueberry pancakes with cinnamon and black coffee. A loud beep would erupt from the machine and all the motion would stop and we would freeze as if we were teenagers caught by the janitor in his closet. When I put my wet clothes in the dryer, you ran upstairs and grabbed your laun— dry hamper, left over from college and toted along every weekend, and put the clothes in the washing machine in the basement of my apartment complex.To pass the next hour we would clean the apartment, plunging our hands into dish water and dust piles. We had music playing and the whole day ahead of us, our whole lives ahead of us. I miss you because you smelled like Dial soap and every time you left,I checked the shower to see ifyou had left the bar behind to turn to mush in the soap dish. When you came to visit me on weekends when we were young and more in love than anyone else in The Whole World, you would walk around my apartment without your shirt after 60
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Title: Murphy Square 2010, Page 56
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: no brothers or father left to show me the path home. All I have is Beth — a vapid, brain- less bitch who cares not about my family or my grief. What does she know of heartbreak? She is content to spread herself like a whore on the hood of my car, waiting for my sex, waiting for our return to L. A...
Show moreno brothers or father left to show me the path home. All I have is Beth — a vapid, brain- less bitch who cares not about my family or my grief. What does she know of heartbreak? She is content to spread herself like a whore on the hood of my car, waiting for my sex, waiting for our return to L. A. so she can spend my money on another trip, another party, another stupid little dog. After the funeral, she patted my arm. “I'm sorry, baby," she said to me. “This has got to be so hard on you. We should go to Rome.” The breeze has shifted now. Instead of coming in from the sea, it hits me from behind, carrying on it the sound of Beth’s voice: “Well, then?” She thinks I want to fuck her. I look down over the edge to the waves crashing up against the jagged rocks below. Danny's there, on his back, paddling as the tide swells him in and out, closer to, then far- ther from the shore. I hear his playful laugh. I take off my shoes, and, smiling, I jump the guardrail, sailing down to meet him. 54
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Title: Murphy Square 2010, Page 44
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: around her knees, and tied into knots at her waste. “Dhondobad,"l thanked her. “Welcome,"she said and shuffled off. I placed the decorative end of the sari on Payel’s left shoulder and wrapped the remaining 16 feet once around her little body. I started tucking it into the waist of her skirt but...
Show morearound her knees, and tied into knots at her waste. “Dhondobad,"l thanked her. “Welcome,"she said and shuffled off. I placed the decorative end of the sari on Payel’s left shoulder and wrapped the remaining 16 feet once around her little body. I started tucking it into the waist of her skirt but something didn't look right. I wrapped it around the other direction. I started with the opposite end instead of the middle. I took the decorative piece off of her shoulder and slung it over mine. I put my arms around her stomach and tried tucking it from behind and then tossed the decorative end over her shoulder. “Step in here,"I told Payel, nodding at the loop I had just created. I tightened the fabric in some places and tucked in ends here and there, but she was a mess, and I was sweat- ing from my efforts. Glancing up I saw Rakhi straightening the sari of another girl she'd just assisted. “Rakhi,"l called. “Help Payel," Rakhi was nine, one of the oldest girls in the dorm room, but among the youngest at the All Bengal Women’s Union. She walked across the room toward Payel, shoulders back and head held high. The girls respected her like no one else, except maybe their Mashis (the dorm mothers if-you—will.) Rakhi always knew best, always had the last word in an argument and always got her way. Ifwe were sitting in a circle playing a game and Rakhi wanted to sit next to me. she'd point to the girl in her spot and the girl would immediately move, no ques- tion. Rakhi was rough, but like the Mashis she was rough mostly out oflove. She would hit the younger girls on the backs of their heads when they forgot to put their dirty clothes away, but would hug them if they were sad. Rakhi spun Payel around, unwrapping the sari bind I’d created. She moved quickly, but with precision - toss, tuck, wrap, fold, wrap, toss — the jum- bled mess of red and gold fabric began to take the proper shape. I’d seen Payel’s sari before, at one of the street stands near my house. I contemplated buying one once, because they were so cheap, but my host mother insisted otherwise. A few weeks before the festival, Sharmialla, my host mother, invited me to accom- pany her and her daughter to a Hindu wedding. At this point,I had been living in Kolkata with Sharmilla and her family for three weeks and it was imperative that I purchase a quality 42
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Title: Murphy Square 2010, Page 53
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: family's cars a good quality inspection. Luckily, the door held, their ears popped, and they weren’t sucked into the clouds. All too suddenly, the noise of the wracking winds went away. There was an abrupt silence. In reality, it lasted 4.2 seconds, but Jayden thought it was considerably longer,...
Show morefamily's cars a good quality inspection. Luckily, the door held, their ears popped, and they weren’t sucked into the clouds. All too suddenly, the noise of the wracking winds went away. There was an abrupt silence. In reality, it lasted 4.2 seconds, but Jayden thought it was considerably longer, probably because he hadn’t taken a breath for over a minute. Jayden didn’t take his hands off of his ears. He was too afraid they would explode if he did, so he held them fast. Finally, through his clenched ﬁngers,]ayden began to hear other sounds. Birds. There were birds singing. Finding no reason to stay in the bathroomJayden’s father stood up and went out into the foyer. There were wet leaves, sticks, and saturated newspaper pages littering the ﬂoor of the entryway. Jayden’s fathers’ face was empty of anything. He didn’t look worried, sad, or scared —just a complete expression of nothing; all of the muscles in his face were limp, and he looked ten years older than he had just ﬁve minutes before.]ayden's mother let him go and they emerged from the bathroom, went into the entry room and out the front door. Everyone on the block came out of their front doors at the same momentlheir faces all looked like Jayden’s father's. A neighbor, Dick, was taking pictures of his garage, which had collapsed com— pletely, with spines of shattered wood stabbing out into the air where his garage door had been ripped from its hinges. “Mom? Mom, why is he taking pictures?”]ayden asked his mother. "Probably for insurance," she said without really paying attention to what he had said. She was staring down the street. Jayden thought how insurance was a strange thing to be thinking about when the earth hadjust made everything into nothing. An insurance policy. Everyone was staring at their houses; some were damaged, some were almost unrecognizable, some were ﬂattened. 'Ihe neat little neighborhood where nobody had ever suffered had been leveled. 'Ihe supercell storm that had spawned thirteen tornadoes, according to a later report, including the F—4 that had just been drawn back up into the sky not three miles from Jaydcn's house, had taken a thousand miles to develop. 51
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Title: Murphy Square 2010, Page 28
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: Home Digital Print Kan I'Voo/c'zw 20

Title: Murphy Square 2010, Page 51
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: Jayden sucked his spilled milk up with his mouth like a straw, despite his mother’s scold— ing. She was acting different that day. In fact, so were most people Jayden could remem- ber.Jayden noticed that the adults had been strangely edgy that morning. His mother yelled at him when he buttoned...
Show moreJayden sucked his spilled milk up with his mouth like a straw, despite his mother’s scold— ing. She was acting different that day. In fact, so were most people Jayden could remem- ber.Jayden noticed that the adults had been strangely edgy that morning. His mother yelled at him when he buttoned his shirt wrong, and his father looked like he wasn’t listening during the sermon at church. The clouds came in slowly that day, and the air felt uncomfortably warm to Jayden when he was playing in the churchyard that was up the street from his house after the ten o'clock sewice.The little boys and girls looked around for squirrels and rabbits to chase around the courtyard, but they had all disappeared. Before the sky turned purple, there was no wind at all, but the air felt humid and heavy for March; it pressed on Jayden and his playmates'skin and made it clammy as if someone had wrapped plastic wrap around his whole body, and then, his mouth. Around four o’clock in the afternoon,]ayden started to feel sick to his stomach. The giant, churning, black clouds of the supercell approached like a glacier in the sky. Finally they surrounded the valley, and the entire town looked up with their mouths agape at the same moment. Clocks seemed to slow; the collective breath of the town slowed and then stopped as they watched the sky twist and rumble as if it was spawning something. Finally, with all the pomp and ceremony of the town’s annual Fourth of July parade, the one—and-a—half—mile—wide tornado made its grand entrance into city limits. At 5:23, after observing the clouds from inside, the swirling, hypnotic cumu— lonimbus clouds that towered over the river valley drew Jayden’s father outside onto the back porch. He stood outside with his knees locked and his hands in his pockets, mesmerized by the wind. Small branches were ﬂying around, and to this dayJayden can remember thinking that the tops of the swirling trees looked like the second hands on clocks. Jayden's mother had to scream at him to come inside right before they ran into the bath— room downstairs for cover,]ayden clinging to her leg as she pleaded with her husband to listen. He was smiling; his eyes were so wide, his hair blowing in circles. Jayden’s father didn’t respond to his wife’s warnings, which had gone from plead— ing, to manic, to angry. Her eyes were wide and glossy like ﬁsh eyesJayden wondered if his father was hypnotized, possessed. He had never seen his father’s face look like that: 49
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Title: Murphy Square 2010, Page 34
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: Flowers Gone Wild Oil Son Min/.5 Tran 32

Title: Murphy Square 2010, Page 37
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: Grandpa—2 35mm ﬁlm Mal/y E17!ng 35

Title: Murphy Square 2010, Page 66
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: would move out. Getting up from that bed was the hardest thing I had to do. You helped me pack because it was me who was restless and couldn't leave you and you knew it. You knew that I had wanted to go for so long. “I love you, too"I said. And you told me that it was ok to still love you and...
Show morewould move out. Getting up from that bed was the hardest thing I had to do. You helped me pack because it was me who was restless and couldn't leave you and you knew it. You knew that I had wanted to go for so long. “I love you, too"I said. And you told me that it was ok to still love you and started crying when you started separating your old t-shirts from my old t-shirts. We spent hours dividing up everything and when it was all over, and three in the morning, we both realized that I still had to stay the night, and maybe even the next day. I slept on the couch for two days, found an apartment to sublet and moved my things out, with your help, on the third day. 64
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Title: Murphy Square 2010, Page 32
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: Headphones 35 mm ﬁlm 822121:sz ym‘t 3O

Title: Murphy Square 2010, Page 07
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: Fruit Malena 77105072 Mourn when neighbors are squeezed dry like oranges-— de-pulped, strained (maybe twice), then mixed with sweeteners, diluted, and chemically altered to preserve freshness. But rejoice when a fresh orange is fully treasured straight off the tree.

Title: Murphy Square 2010, Page 60
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: ENL 7th Grade Sana Ma/ik Your nose looks like the pancake l trod over this morning. Yuck! Well, imagine if someone put a compass on a nose and made a pudgy globe around it...That's your bulbous face for you. Not quiteyel were, Mix: Bryan.’ Your hair looks like it’s sprouting decayed broccoli all...
Show moreENL 7th Grade Sana Ma/ik Your nose looks like the pancake l trod over this morning. Yuck! Well, imagine if someone put a compass on a nose and made a pudgy globe around it...That's your bulbous face for you. Not quiteyel were, Mix: Bryan.’ Your hair looks like it’s sprouting decayed broccoli all over. That's disgusting! IfI slit a pale sheet just a sliver and let the crow peep in through that, I'd be staring at your eye. The mole under your lower lip looks like the plop of that well-fed crow! No dirty comparisons, Mn jackton.’ Hankyou/ Your ear is the desert with the sand dunes excavated. Your eyelashes look like “Await! 'Ihere are no eyelashes to look at! 58
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Title: Murphy Square 2010, Page 57
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: Working Wonders Sana Malik She knew she was really good. Tell herselflong enough that she admired the curves of the brunette she met in London last week and she will become a lesbian. They laughed that she was really good. Warned her boyfriend of the day she would suggest to herself that he can...
Show moreWorking Wonders Sana Malik She knew she was really good. Tell herselflong enough that she admired the curves of the brunette she met in London last week and she will become a lesbian. They laughed that she was really good. Warned her boyfriend of the day she would suggest to herself that he can no longer give her what she needs and that will be the end of them. Obviously she giggles at this as she sits play— ing with waves of chestnut silk, looking into eyes of love that reﬂected the blue warmth of the open sky. She blossomed in the strength of the young sturdy arms that held her close and ﬁrm as if he would never let her go. She repeats that she is really good. Cazes at her hands where the henna curls and curves and loops to form red-brown delicate vines and ﬂowers and leaves; at her red heavy lehnga with gold lapping the bottom of the dress which kisses the ground. Sighs as she thinks of her bridegroom waiting outside in the red turban which covers his waxed head and the few proud hairs all over spread; in the black sherwani bursting at the holes; in his glasses resting on a blemished extra large nose. She reiterates that she is really good. Takes a deep breath and whispers, “I can do it. Yes I can. I will fall in love with him, I will fall in love, yes,l will f ." In love, she means. She tries to smile in the mirror and walks towards the wedding hall. 55
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Title: Murphy Square 2010, Page 61
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: Funny. You lose a point. Your eyebrows look like shaggy bushes in the depths of the night. Wooh! I should get an extra point for this bloody brilliant one! Your front tooth is a rusted spade digging into the red earth. Why, you...your ass is like...! Excellent class today, boy: andgir/x.’ We will...
Show moreFunny. You lose a point. Your eyebrows look like shaggy bushes in the depths of the night. Wooh! I should get an extra point for this bloody brilliant one! Your front tooth is a rusted spade digging into the red earth. Why, you...your ass is like...! Excellent class today, boy: andgir/x.’ We will work will) hyperbole: and understatement: next wee/z! 59
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Title: Murphy Square 2010, Page 10
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: scrub, ﬂuff, wash, and cook under her own critique and no one else's. His mother wouldn’t be allowed in the county, with her plastic pointy nose and breasts. It was his mother who had decorated the room, matching everything to the warm tones in the hardwood ﬂoor. The ﬂoor was beautiful, Dawn...
Show morescrub, ﬂuff, wash, and cook under her own critique and no one else's. His mother wouldn’t be allowed in the county, with her plastic pointy nose and breasts. It was his mother who had decorated the room, matching everything to the warm tones in the hardwood ﬂoor. The ﬂoor was beautiful, Dawn agreed. It had been a shame to ﬁnd the beautiful oriental rug at the art fair that perfectly ﬁlled the entire room. Really a shame. What would be left of her life was coffee, with its warm, healing effects as it flowed through her body. Cigarettes. with their soft mentholated and smoky breath as it entered her lungs. Her camera with its new telephoto lens that could capture the veins on a bee's wing if she desired to photograph such things. A blue cotton dress that slid between her thighs as she danced at the bar and sliver bangles jingle—jangling on her wrist as she spun.There was room for scotch, whiskey, and the occasional bottle of wine, but not much else. Nothing else, in fact, came to mind that she wished to preserve from her current life in the creation of an ideal world. She swirled her coffee mug by the handle and took a sip. To her disgust, the coffee was cold and she had neglected to brew another pot. She set the ceramic mug down on an end table and pulled her bathrobe tighter across her chest. Aside from the whirring of the fan above her and the curtains billowing away from the wall, the room was still and quiet. Behind the curtains the day was alive with the chirping ofbirds and the tinkle ofwind chimes. The sun was sinking to the west, creating a glowing halo that outlined the windows. The dust in the room starting swirling in circles, going up and down, side to side, and every which way. Dirt and grime popped out of every crevice and pointed with blackened ﬁngernails, accusing her of being a bad housekeeper. A blank screened television. housed in wood paneling, was angled just square to where she sat. It, too, was cov— ered with a layer of dust that distorted the shows he watched, making the people look older and fuzzy. His spot on the couch sunk a little deeper than the rest and creaked under the small movements her body made. A photo of them, taken a few years ago, sat on top of the TV. She let her eyes relax and blur, then forced them to focus. Her smile was still bright and wide. His hand was still just as large, resting on her belly. They loved each other in that moment. And many other moments. In fact, the room was overﬂowing with moments of their love, some hanging in clusters along the dusty walls, some resting on antique furniture his mother had given them. There were photos of loving friends and family caught in candid moments by Dawn's keen eyes as she strolled around reunions hiding behind the Nikon that hung from her neck. All of them had gathered the dust of time and bittersweet yesterdays. 8
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Title: Murphy Square 2010, Page 49
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: And these— It’sjust A shaft ofearly, bright sunlight These are my kids Angling into our Here , Cathedral In this kitchen Full of near nakedness Looking to me now And nothing much else Like marble statues of Here in our house Nymphs In early June In a church garden It’s just summer But this is...
Show moreAnd these— It’sjust A shaft ofearly, bright sunlight These are my kids Angling into our Here , Cathedral In this kitchen Full of near nakedness Looking to me now And nothing much else Like marble statues of Here in our house Nymphs In early June In a church garden It’s just summer But this is nothing too serious Starting again Not art, not really Already It‘s just Bare feet On hardwood ﬂoors Cold peanut butter toast On the corner of the counter And cereal bowls stacked in the sink It's just A humming fridge And a TV talking in the next room 47
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Title: Murphy Square 2010, Page 21
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: Monument Melany Kearm An old country cemetery hidden on the outskirts ofa small river town in the Mid- west called Maiden Rock, Wisconsin, is the resting place for an entire branch of my family tree. The cemetery opened for business just before the American Civil War and is still active today....
Show moreMonument Melany Kearm An old country cemetery hidden on the outskirts ofa small river town in the Mid- west called Maiden Rock, Wisconsin, is the resting place for an entire branch of my family tree. The cemetery opened for business just before the American Civil War and is still active today. Tall, gnarled trees line the avenues through the large cemetery surrounded by old growth forest. It lies on the bluffs along the Mississippi, in a sleepy town that once boomed during the settlement era, but which now, on the average summer day, boasts more tourists than residents. A large weathered monument of gray granite labeled “Fisher” watches over the rest— ing places of some of my ancestors. A quarter of who I am comes from the line of people buried in this cemetery, their lives and decisions affecting and creating the opportunity for mine. Albert Lloyd Fisher (1873-1948) married Ida Mae (1878—1944), who gave birth to Sam Albert (1905—1973) who married Vivian Leigh (1919-1971), who gave birth to Darlene Vivian (b. 1939), who married Lyle Thomas Kearns (b. 1934), who gave birth to Steven Lyle (b. 1959) who married Debra Lynn (b. 1960) who gave birth to me, Melany Rose (b. 1981), and my brother,]ason Steven (b. 1984). These people constitute the elements of my makeup from my Grandmother‘s side. Descendents of German immigrants, Methodists until my Grandmother Darlene married my Catholic Grandfather Lyle, these individuals are part of my history, part of making me who I am today. These people built lives on land barely settled, in tough conditions, overcoming adversity and ﬁghting their way into building a better life for their children and those coming behind them. But what about the people who do not ﬁght, or cannot ﬁght, and end up in the same adverse situations that they grew up in.> What about the young boy, with an addicted mother and an alcoholic father, who forfeits his chance at being a man because he is already accus— tomed to the world of vice? And, what about the sister who fought her way to a better life, left her brother be— hind, and can't ﬁnd a way to help him out? 19
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Title: Murphy Square 2010, Page 24
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: news. Our dad had been throwing in a horseshoe tournament and drinking all day in the blazing sun. They had won the tournament. He had taken his horseshoe partner and the partner's six-year-old son to a friend's house. They were speeding. A car pulled out on a blind curve. My dad swerved. then...
Show morenews. Our dad had been throwing in a horseshoe tournament and drinking all day in the blazing sun. They had won the tournament. He had taken his horseshoe partner and the partner's six-year-old son to a friend's house. They were speeding. A car pulled out on a blind curve. My dad swerved. then overcorrected, and ﬂipped the pickup truck. That stopped us — a detail that we could focus on. His just acquired forest green Dodge Ram, the one thing we had ever known our father to buy himself new, was totaled. So was our Dad. We walked into the hospital room and found him lying in the bed. He looked so small. His skin was the burnt tan ofsomeone who spent most ofhis time in the sun, but lying in the hospital bed, he looked pale. We held his hand until they came to take him to the local county jail. I drove my brother home. ttit My brother, frequently lost to rage that was slowly eating him up, should not have had any respect or emotion for the grave of a relative neither one of us knew. I saw the grave of a stranger. Though I felt pity for the sixteen year old who lost his life in a car accident he was someone I knew very little about. My brother saw someone who lost at no fault of his own. He saw himself. I saw my brother, a combination of our parents' pale skin and bright eyes. We left the cemetery. I climbed into the front seat of the truck, my brother the back In minutes, his eyes closed and his head began to nod. He was soon sound asleep in the back of the pickup, his soft snores the only sound. He slept the whole way home, 22
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Title: Murphy Square 2010, Page 27
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: Farewell Powdery Paradise Natasha Pelowky 25

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