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 Show less
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 Show less
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 Show less
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 Show less
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 Show less
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 Show less
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 Show less
alone. I thought then that you didn’t want me] realized later that you wanted me badly enough to drive an hour away from home and stay with me when you didn't have to work. You wanted me badly enough to pay for my drinks and listen to my lies. You wanted me badly enough to walk away from my... Show morealone. I thought then that you didn’t want me] realized later that you wanted me badly enough to drive an hour away from home and stay with me when you didn't have to work. You wanted me badly enough to pay for my drinks and listen to my lies. You wanted me badly enough to walk away from my advances and get me a glass of water or two or three so I wouldn't feel awful in the morning. “Here you go, drink up.” "No problem,"I said and drank the whole glass before turning around and walk- ing into my bedroom. You took my glass before I dropped it onto the floor and climbed into bed in my bra and underwear. I was almost asleep when you crawled in next to me. You kissed my shoulder and whispered something that I didn't hear. You kissed me again and again until I couldn’t think and could barely talk. “Please don’t stop."I felt like I was underwater, weightless and bogged down by pressure of the moving sea.The once-and-awhile men I was used to didn’t take their time, not like you. Running my hands over your chest was everything I could do to stay in that room, in that bed. I kissed you until my lips were numb, until I couldn’t think of anything but sleeping with you. As I kissed my way down your doughy belly, I ran my fingers and then my lips over your mole. From that moment on, I knew you were mine. Craving your goose bumps against my cheek. I blew on that brown bump and felt your fingers tighten around my hand that you held as your hostage. I pulled off your plaid boxers that were damp from the rain and you whispered somethingI can’t remember now. I miss you because this year on Christmas Eve my family told the story about the time, some five years ago, we passed out on the couch after too many egg nogs and glasses of wine. My fiance squeezed my thigh under the table as if to say, I didn't know yau brought lJim [Jere and I am so embarrarred for 117: both of you. I wanted to tell him that you didn't care about how drunk we got because my family thought you were the best thing that had happened since the wine opener was invented. You did the dishes, read the Christmas story to my eight year old cousins and then, in the morning, dressed up as Santa Claus because you thought it was fun. I wanted to tell him that sometimes, whenI came into this house, I wished to be a fly on the wall that night. When, only after the kids 62 Show less
City/ Sea Samantha Guck Now, stay with me on this one: on a shell, an anemone the city is like a sea on the birds at least in the morning who cut the sky cold 8Lquiet like the only true fish still and on us crustaceans like a soft picture—ocean skittering here and we deep, deep below in the salt... Show moreCity/ Sea Samantha Guck Now, stay with me on this one: on a shell, an anemone the city is like a sea on the birds at least in the morning who cut the sky cold 8Lquiet like the only true fish still and on us crustaceans like a soft picture—ocean skittering here and we deep, deep below in the salt bottoms. the sky acting as water in this simile and the clouds...boats maybe? High high above where we cannot understand the shapes of their purpose the branches of trees bramble up like flora aquatica an elm makes fine coral with its tangle-twisted limbs others - birch and pine — seaweed, stiff. And what hits the eyes most during these early morning walks to lecture halls are buldings as the sun glints hazy in the blue-light fog of new days blazing copper and iridescent on an apartment on the horizon 15 Show less
Eager Ends fen Sr/Jutt People never die on time. They‘re always too young or too old. Grandma died late. She had to put up with us for fifteen years after Grandpa died. She talked about killing herself for years-- never bothered with it. She claimed she wrote us all hate letters but I never got... Show moreEager Ends fen Sr/Jutt People never die on time. They‘re always too young or too old. Grandma died late. She had to put up with us for fifteen years after Grandpa died. She talked about killing herself for years-- never bothered with it. She claimed she wrote us all hate letters but I never got one. She didn‘t send them. Hell. I don‘t think she even started them. My brother tried it. It was the night before Thanksgiving. He downed a bottle of pills. His best friend had to call the ambulance. My mother didn't even believe he'd done it until they got to the hospital. They kept him in lock down for three days. made him use crayons and hand over his shoe laces and watch Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. I thought he deserved that much. Grandma decided to mention killing herself again after his episode. She sat there at the head of the table. smoking her cigarette 56 Show less
were asleep, we broke into the left over Egg Nog and Red wine. As you read me “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” with different voices for each character, my relatives slowly gathered around and listened and laughed along. My mom and dad were crying they were laughing so hard and my aunts and... Show morewere asleep, we broke into the left over Egg Nog and Red wine. As you read me “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” with different voices for each character, my relatives slowly gathered around and listened and laughed along. My mom and dad were crying they were laughing so hard and my aunts and uncles had never be— fore gotten so drunk on Christmas. We stayed up until three in the morning and put the presents from Santa under the tree with the “adults,” and as everyone was getting ready for bed, we fell asleep slumped down and holding hands on the living room couch. I miss you because you broke up with me in person, face-to-face and cried when you did it. I knew it was going to happen when you started going out with your fellow teachers more and I started going back into the city to get drunk and spend the night at my friend's apartments like I did when I was in college. And, I also knew that we both knew that I would never be the one to leave you. I never got to thank you for always tak- ing things so slow, for letting me talk, for letting me let you go in my own time. “We need to talk," you said. Silence. “You know that; I know that you know that.” “I know." “Ok then, let's talk about this," you said and sat down next to me on the bed in our bedroom of the tiny house outside the suburbs that we both loved so much and had lived in for two years. Driving up to it,I can remember the bumps in the muddy drive way and the way it was hidden behind maple trees that splattered our cars with sap that was impossible to remove. Yellow paint was always flaking and chipping from the boards around the windows, but from far away it was silent and safe; home. “Let’s talk about this,"I echoed as I put my hands on your thigh and stared at the floor. You didn’t move away from me. You didn't flinch. “This is over," you said. “Because we are in a rut and have been in rut and we aren't in love anymore,”I said as I started crying. You took my hand off of your thigh and held it. “I love you," you said. I told you that I knew that you loved me in the same breath that I said that I 63 Show less
bane of the mistress Sana Malié bittergourd secrets sublime clandestine scullions scrubbing at vile graffiti on the heart awhile sublime clandestine betel-nut kisses grafiiti vile on the heart saccharine and tart betel—nut kisses as the cloying aftertaste saccharine and tart ofa Canderel-ed pie... Show morebane of the mistress Sana Malié bittergourd secrets sublime clandestine scullions scrubbing at vile graffiti on the heart awhile sublime clandestine betel-nut kisses grafiiti vile on the heart saccharine and tart betel—nut kisses as the cloying aftertaste saccharine and tart ofa Canderel-ed pie cloying aftertaste of mulberry sighs, like a Canderel-ed pie purple-stained goodbye mulberry sighs clouding reflected gazes purple-stained goodbye in moonstruck eyes clouded reflected gazes cacao memories in moonstruck eyes coffeed and toffeed cacao memories wrapped in scuttling satin coffeed and toffeed wriggling out of grasp wrapped in scuttling satin gooseberry dreams wriggling out of grasp fudge-confectioned gooseberry dreams poetic concoctions fiad e—confectioned g laced with liquorice dreams of a goose Show less
Dead Flowers Em Kline Dawn was sitting on the blue and green plaid couch when it happenedThe olive green curtains along the wall in front of her began to move despite the closed windows. At first it was as though an August breeze was signifying the turn oflate afternoon into evening. The ceiling... Show moreDead Flowers Em Kline Dawn was sitting on the blue and green plaid couch when it happenedThe olive green curtains along the wall in front of her began to move despite the closed windows. At first it was as though an August breeze was signifying the turn oflate afternoon into evening. The ceiling fan clunked in circles above her, causing the single, dim light bulb to strobe faintly around her. An all too familiar tune chimed from the grandfather clock in the foyer, fol— lowed by one of those ominous chimes that echoed through an empty, still house. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to control the chimes, hoping they would stop. Inevitably, as it had chimed four times last hour, it chimed a fifth resounding stroke. He would be home soon. She curled her toes around the fibers of the oriental rug beneath her feet and let out a long slow breath that flattened her stomach. The unopened book that rested on her chest fell to the floor and she stared at it, willing it to slide under the couch and be hidden from her sight. As the curtains blew further from the wall, a laser of light cut through the dreary room and illuminated dust that floated in the air. The dust moved in one direction. Down. It came to rest on every available surface, creating a visible layer. Had she been able to muster the force to move, she wished to draw the sideways 8 ofinflnity on the walls. Instead they were covered with aging wallpaper that peeled from the mopboards, the ceiling, and the corners. Tiny sprigs of baby's breath decorated the paper in the few spots lacking picture frames or furniture. One frame was not in line with the others and she felt an overwhelming need to straighten it. It nagged on her mind, even though she refocused her attention to the book on the floor. She let her eyes flicker to the crooked frame, hating it with intensity. She wished the glass to break and the disobedient wood to splinter. But it did not, and she would not rise to fix it. It had been only a few days since the episode and Doc prescribed that she indulge in rest and avoid stressfirl situations. She couldn't decide which was more stressful to her at this mo— ment, getting up to realign the wooden frame or feeling its crookedness mock her from across the room. For the moment she escaped the spiteful laughter of the picture and became ensnared by the thought of eradicating all other stressful situations. He surely wouldn’t be allowed in the front door, every day bringing his work problems through the front door. Talk of her unemployment and household contributions would be banned. She would sweep, mop, dust, 7 Show less
ing like a snake through the top layer ofearth. He had caught up to her, having lost his hat and shed his button-down along the way. “Dawn. don't do this. I can't do this right now." He wiped sweat from his forehead and looked at her under a brow wrinkled from the glare of the sun. “Let’s go home... Show moreing like a snake through the top layer ofearth. He had caught up to her, having lost his hat and shed his button-down along the way. “Dawn. don't do this. I can't do this right now." He wiped sweat from his forehead and looked at her under a brow wrinkled from the glare of the sun. “Let’s go home, Dawn." She twisth from his grip and stared straight into his eyes, wondering if he could ever really love herjust as she was. All she wanted was a small sign. A look in his eye or a soft much against her bare skin. She didn’t speak. He turned away. raising a trail ofdust behind him as he walked the winding path hack to the house. She took off running down the long rickety wooden pier and dove in head first, letting the cool waters welcome her with a lapping tongue. She let herselfsink to the bottom of the pond, expelling all the air out of her lungs in big bubbles. She was in mother nature's womb and she, too, would refuse to emerge alive. 12 Show less
Motive: A Study in Antelope Samant/Ja Guck Sometimes I have a hard time deciding whether animals are more like humans or machines. example: An antelope is being pursued by a wild dog, his parting snarl and the thunder of padded feet close behind, tools of the take-down of the antelope’s end. As... Show moreMotive: A Study in Antelope Samant/Ja Guck Sometimes I have a hard time deciding whether animals are more like humans or machines. example: An antelope is being pursued by a wild dog, his parting snarl and the thunder of padded feet close behind, tools of the take-down of the antelope’s end. As death thumps the earth behind her, what motivates the antelope to run? Is it panic, blind and personal? Does the antelope run because she knows she has a life and a life is a thing worth saving? Does she run out ofdesire to see the end of another sun red and flaring over the long grass ofthe Serengeti? To lie in sleep on the fragrant earth,> To taste sweet water once more And rejoice the return of rain? Or does the antelope run simply because the antelope runs: Driven by joints fueled by feed compelled by some unconscious command ofinstinct running with blank eyes, beating time with programmed hooves, thinking no thoughts toward her own red ribs, fearing no fears ofclumsy stumbled bones hoping no escape-hopes of her own? 13 Show less
a shower smelling like soap and I could see the mole on your right hip peeking up at me with every step. Now, in my new home, I can’t recreate the way the wood floor creaked as you proudly strolled through the sun light streaming in through the open windows. I picked up a package of Dial Soap from... Show morea shower smelling like soap and I could see the mole on your right hip peeking up at me with every step. Now, in my new home, I can’t recreate the way the wood floor creaked as you proudly strolled through the sun light streaming in through the open windows. I picked up a package of Dial Soap from Target today, it was on sale and it brought me back to that second Saturday in June when I was twenty three. You had come from student teaching in the suburbs to stay with me in my apartment next to an old Laundromat. I hope you remember how we walked down the crowded street next to the University of Minnesota. We slipped into a corner booth at the bar on the corner and I told the lies that I thought I had to tell you to make you love me. “What do you do when I'm not around?” “Work, exercise, read and look forward to the weekend." “You're full of shit.” We talked about the books I was “reading” and I did everything to remember what books I had read in high school so I had something to say during these conversations. Really I was working and drinking with my friends and occasionally sleeping with other men be- cause you weren’t having sex with me and we had “been together” (dating,I guess) for two months and I didn't know how exclusive we were. So, because drinks were two—for—one and I ordered three, but drank six, I got drunk and dizzy and didn‘t care that it was rain— ing the kind of rain that comes down in waves instead of steady drops when we stumbled out into the night. When we got to my street,l stepped in a pothole and you caught me before I fell and that’s when I smelled your shower soap mixed with the scent of rum and whiskey and rain. Kissing you there as I was shivering and sweating from rain and liquor made me want to carve out a space for us in that pothole and stay there forever. When we got into my apartment ourjeans were soaking wet and I stripped in the living room, leaving the twisted denim and white Hanes t-shirt I had taken to wearing when I didn’t have any clean clothes, in a pile. You went to the bathroom and got towels from behind the door and wrapped me with one. I tried to kiss you as you had your arms wrapped around me and my towel, but I was too drunk and too tired to find your lips so I put my face in your neck and breathed slowly. Goose bumps rippled through your body and you nuzzled your wet, red hair against mine. “Let’s get you a glass of water," you said and left me standing in my living room 61 Show less
I have a confession Hanna/.1 Curbing At night I like to walk and look into windows of the houses I pass. Not in perversion. Rather.I find it calming to watch the peaceful nighttime routines unfold without any frame of reference for the chaos I know must be more truthful. How predictable the... Show moreI have a confession Hanna/.1 Curbing At night I like to walk and look into windows of the houses I pass. Not in perversion. Rather.I find it calming to watch the peaceful nighttime routines unfold without any frame of reference for the chaos I know must be more truthful. How predictable the rhythms ofour lives, our comings and goings, our ascents and descents. Through the windows I can see it. Television. Teeth brushing. The eventual tiring. 'Ihe surrender to unconsciousness. The wave of the white flag. It is almost hopeful. Unless,l think that tomorrow they must do it all again. 16 And that this peaceful display of light cocooned softly in darkness is but something tangible to house the seething at its core. How predictable the rhythms of our lives, the rises and falls, the labored breaths and tired exhalations, the loves and losses and trite words of comfort, the numbness, the resentments, the hatred. How predictable that we need some things to hold fast to, proof that this rhythm is redeemable for something besides distraction monotony, or boredom. How predictable that I should like to walk, and while I walk look into windows creating for these characters — stories as fictional as their lives. Show less
