It was the summer of '82, my first year at Saint Vincent's. I'd just arrived in the city, a newly minted nurse from the Midwest, and taken an apartment on Perry Street with three other nurses. He was ... [+]
Short Fiction
It was the summer of '82, my first year at Saint Vincent's. I'd just arrived in the city, a newly minted nurse from the Midwest, and taken an apartment on Perry Street with three other nurses. He was ... [+]
I
Mick, we are in a swamp.
Bullrush baited, thick
in the thicket, vibrant
and violent. We
... [+]
Everyone receives gifts they neither need nor want—bath salts for people who only shower, a frilly nightgown wrapped up for someone who sleeps in sweatpants, that 27th tie . . . Sometimes we ... [+]
A long time ago, when the world was new, the night sky was a dark void absent of moon or stars. By day, Helios, the Sun God, filled the sky with light as he raced his chariot around the heavens ... [+]
Dear Editor,
Attached is my short story, "Lovestruck." Please publish it in your magazine as I see it becoming a runaway success.
Best,
Nancy
(P.S. It's allegorical.)
... [+]
We build our homes
From sailors' bones
A crown conch amplifies their screams
From grooves
... [+]
For Richard
It was 1984 and we were pretending to be spies.
It was one of those "adult" games that twists your arm to mingle. Our host, David, greeted us at the door with a card that had ou
... [+]
It was the splatter of liquid on my face that woke me. Shitty-quality beer, with a taste of loam. Awareness returned as it puddled beneath me, where the tree roots grew against my back. Feet on the ... [+]
The histamine rush
from scratching this rash
makes me think that there must
be some really
... [+]
Mrs Wallace had to jaywalk to make the bus, which was about to pull away. It wasn't easy. She was overweight and her left knee, which hadn't been feeling so good of late, felt spongey. Breathing ... [+]
I'm a triangle
my edges are hard
always snagging on the soft, soft world
my scars are
... [+]
There he was, waiting for another train. He was so sick of the subways. Always late. Dirty. Noisy. Flying maniac kids dancing for dollars. Bad musicians. Endless panhandlers. And the so-called ... [+]
Fireworks rupture the smoke
gold stars like sky-sealed approval
burst trickle down
green
... [+]
"Do you like Sunshine Bear?"
Becca scowls down at her white shirt emblazoned with a smiling bear—at the long, bony finger inches away from her skinny chest.
"It's Funshine Bear," she says
... [+]
She ties on her daughter's wings made not
of wax, leather, eagle feathers, but of
paper, ribbon
... [+]