I’m building in this sprawling space, knowing my lot’s full of mud, with stone to crush, mix into cement and pour into a form I’m dreaming up, a footing that supports a structure, one line coaxed and then another into angles, raise a wall to hold it in, hoist a ceiling, plastered, to a scenic elevation, post a sign in front to welcome neighbors, frame…
Awakening by Peter Schireson
Awakening to the sheet, soft and familiar, across her shoulder, to last night’s tea, cool in a cup on the table, her glasses, the clock, the phone by the bedside, all seem to stir, awakening with her. She feels like she’s stepping outside after too long indoors, or coming indoors after too long outside. A pulse flutters under her skin as she wonders if she…
The Righting Reflex by Piper Daniels
You like to remind me of a poem I wrote for you, something about fucking in a car on a crowded street, something we did that was supposed to be amazing but was revealed to be a sham by how hollow it sounded in the poem and by the way you opened like a wound and poured into the evening instead of remaining detached. I…
Aurora Avenue by Piper Daniels
Today is the greenest this winter and wounds take to ripening. You hope no one will notice before the dark descends like a wave of panic over the Sound. Until then you will trace the crooked letters of handmade marquees offering up marrow. Cars gather in humid congregation. You yearn only to be something less. Less than a mile from here, office workers watch versions…
Ismail’s Restaurant, Bitez, Turkey by Leonard Neufeldt
The midday sun boundless as the neighbor’s greeting. Hair on fire, I leave the lane’s narrowness to the oncoming tractor and turn into Ismail’s yard— gravel and palms. His wife smiles small sweat beads, bends down to dip into a pail of well water, wipes her brow and steps over a broom to greet me again. She can finish when Ismail returns from the garden,…