Direct Connection
byart by Georgia Gump The first time I saw the telephone I was driving home from work. The same route every day, then all of a sudden, something different. I’m…
Archive
The Rules of Being a Ghost
byI GET TO WORK EARLY BECAUSE IT’S ONE OF THE RULES. There are rules to being a ghost in the Navy. I say rules, but there is really only one—refrain…
Exhume
byYOUR EPITAPH IS WRITTEN IN THE BAGS UNDER MY EYES. Each night I lay in bed. Body curled like a question mark around the space you used to fill. Moonlight…
An Octopus Mother Dies After Bearing Her Young
byNO MORE OUTINGS. Home, I bring in the walnut cheeseboard, eat the ever-loving pork chops Dylan made me hours ago, now cold and congealed. Migraine emerging. Where is he? Saturday…
The Return of the Queen
byCOMING INTO SHOCKOE BOTTOM FROM OUT OF TOWN, YOU HAD TO TAKE THE FRANKLIN STREET EXIT FROM I-95 SOUTH, and then make an immediate left turn at Dianastein. Dianastein was…
The Death of Sean Taylor
byCLICK CLACK. This is the first thing Jamil hears when he wipes the sleep from his eyes. He has no sheets or pajamas, so he wakes up with his skin…
Bears
byTHE PULL-DOWN STAIRS TO THE ATTIC SQUAKED WHEN BILL TUGGED THE ROPE IN THE HALL WAY. He paused, buttoned his cardigan, and ran a hand through his silver-grey hair before…
Keys
bySOMETIMES, WHEN DARIO HAS A LATE SHIFT CLEANING TRAINS AND I GO WALK ON THE SEAFRONT, I SEE BLACK FIGURES AGAINST THE SUN. They stand on paddleboards, pushing an oar,…
Singing Lessons
bySWEAT DRIPS DOWN MY NEPHEW EZRA’S FOREHEAD. He throws himself onto his side, gasping and kicking. He knees me in the back of the leg, and knocks one of the…
I Am Not the Painter from Puerto Rico
byTHE FIREWORKS LAST THROUGH DAWN. Smoke collects in streetlights, lingering that dense, burnt chemical sweetness you come to love through old age. It’s colder than cold and yet I’m warm inside…