There was a hippo in the kitchen. No one knew how it got there, or when, but there was undeniably an enormous, sloppy, disheveled hippo in the kitchen.
"And," I said, examining the lunch my mothe
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Multiple award-winning author, Jacqueline Seewald, has taught creative, expository and technical writing at university. Twenty of her books of fiction have been published. Her short stories, poems, essays, reviews and articles have appeared in hundreds of diverse publications and numerous anthologies. "The Quarrel" is in Short Circuit #04, Short Édition's quarterly review.
Sun came out after rain.
Thought I'd never see the sun smile again.
Should have known
it wasn't gone for good.
But your eyes turned so dark.
I fell into those open graves and was buried alive,
Roman catacombs at midnight.
Had to stumble my way out
only to find
your coffined lids nailed shut against me.
Thunder reverberated in your unspoken reproach.
Then it began to rain.
Lord, I never knew the sky could open up that way!
Great tears gushing down the ethereal cheeks of heaven
drenching the earth in a sea of misted salt.
But then I kissed your eyes,
and the storm blew away.
You glowed until you became
the corona of the sun.