Aubade: A Revision

This is not about the issue of Playboy you stored beneath the hospital bed, or about the phone booth where I found you years later, or even about your room near campus in a house I saw only once. No, this is about you prying the bark from my headlight and refusing to share the twin bed.
by Elizabeth Wade | Read story

On The Levee-Greenville, MS

When the sandbags...

by J. Bruce Fuller | Read story

My American Self

My guinea pig is American. It might be funny to think about it that way but he lives in a cage in America, which is in my house, which is also in America.

by Lydia Conklin | Read story

Fast Forward

Sunday, 2 a.m., and we're hopped up on soda and cigarettes for lack of better options. It's early summer, school is out, and as we cruise the empty streets with the windows down I think how I love this town best in the morning, no matter which end of the day I arrive at it from.

by Kate Flaherty | Read story

What I Say To Myself

It was like this: Tony D. tripped me when I was going in for an easy lay-up, real easy, no one there at all, nothing but open court, nothing but daylight, and I could already picture it happening—the last few dribbles and the jumping off the left foot and the rising up like a bird I don’t know the name of...

by Andrew Roe | Read story