Persephone Tells All by Ruth Thompson
“Persephone Tells All” by Ruth Thompson Persephone carried off (faintly protesting) by Big Beard the Muscleman, her weeping mother searched round and round but did not go down- town. Which is where she was. But Big Beard down there in the lamplight in the altogether was altogether so large, so loud, and the latesummer heat so oppressive, Persephone got tired of it (though liking the Harley okay) so she took a...
Moby Dick and the Beginning of the End by Ingrid Jendrzejewski
“Moby Dick and the Beginning of the End” by Ingrid Jendrzejewski He says Melville was stupid because he constantly refers to Moby Dick as a fish. Moby Dick is not a fish. Moby Dick is a whale. Everyone knows that whales aren’t fish and fish aren’t whales; ergo, Melville is not worth reading....
Postcard from Sissinghurst by Denise DiMarzio
“Postcard from Sissinghurst” by Denise DiMarzio I. My hand hesitates, hovering above the clean white rectangle, the small space wide open, waiting, years unwritten. Having a great time. Wish you were here. Vita would never hesitate. In the white garden, I wanted to kneel down with you, anchor my hands in your dark curls, grow roots and wrap them around us like wild bindweed. II. The red deer wander. Shapely...
Recognition by Sandy Gillespie
“Recognition” by Sandy Gillespie We open the window to the lapping bay and laze beside the fire. Overnights are rare for grown women, uninterrupted hours delicate as artichoke petals, from which we scrape soft flesh with gentle teeth. The Cabernet is an eighty-five, and children don’t exist for us tonight. Tonight we are women talking about our lovers. Yours is new, and he moves in such a way that...
The Geography of First Kisses by Karin Cecile Davidson
“The Geography of First Kisses” by Karin Cecile 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...
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