Only your great grandmother came straight from the kitchen to the table, still stinking of brine and iron. Resplendent in her Shabbos skirt, matte ocher blood becomes evening gloves.
Browsing Category Prose, Poetry, and Art
A Submariner in the Pacific Dreams of Flowers by Christine Spillson
Writing as counterspell, against/thoughts that quantified how much space he filled,/of how much space the air filled—how detectable/the displacement of water.
Business and Sales by Mike Corrao
“The third indicator of spring is the arrival of prospective businessmen. They enter the woods and go from tree to tree, soliciting ‘lucrative opportunities’ to the area. One of them had long legs and a short torso. His skin was smooth and reflective.”
Requiem by E. Y. Smith
E. Y. Smith’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, Thoughtful Dog, The East Bay Review, and The Brooklyn Review.
Denim by Christine Kitano
“My mother, the young / immigrant, worked for minimum / wage at Denny’s, serving thin / coffee to men in blue denim. / My mother, sixteen, nimble…”