“The Smell of Other People’s Houses,” by Bonnie-Sue Hitchcock
In 9th grade my boyfriend was Jason Johanson. His father was a dentist and a hunting guide in the Bush. They built a new house on Campbell Lake where they could park their float plane and we could snow machine all the way down Campbell creek in the winter. The whole house was made of fresh cut cedar. All of Jason’s clothes smelled like cedar, and it made me sneeze when I got close to him, but I got close anyway. To this day,...
“Surfing,” by Flynn Berry
“He’s missing.” I am not sure why I said that. It is not even entirely true—he’s not missing in the way mountain climbers, or soldiers, or kidnap victims can be missing. He’s just out of contact. If we made enough phone calls, we might be able to find him. I look up from my plate. We are sitting outside at a restaurant in Bridgehampton. There are a few other tables of diners out of earshot, and a large tree above us. A warm maritime...
Tracy K. Smith, 2013 To the Lighthouse Finalist Judge
Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Tracy K. Smith is the Finalist Judge for the 2013 To the Lighthouse Poetry Publication Prize. About Tracy K. Smith’s Pulitzer Pize winning collection, Life on Mars, Jessica Piazza, 2012 TTL recipient, says: “I’m most affected by “The Speed of Belief,” which is the long elegy poem that makes up a section in Life on Mars. That poem is for her father, and I love to watch the poem move through...
Evie Shockley, 2012 To the Lighthouse Finalist Judge
Poet Evie Shockley is the 2012 To the Lighthouse Poetry Publication Prize finalist judge. Update to Post: See Evie’s selected winner, Leia Penina Wilson.
“The Geography of First Kisses,” by Karin Davidson
Compass Points The first was Leon. A small, muscular boy. A midshipman at the academy. He knew about compasses, easterly winds, how to bring the boat about on white-capped seas. I went for his blond hair and his deep voice, both like honey, thick and golden and crowded, the waxen chambers, the echo in my chest. Summer grew brighter, and I refused to go back home to New Orleans, nearly sixteen, without that first kiss. Sweet sixteen...
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