Fall 2016

Robert Shapard

Piggish I was a piggish child, thin and small. I wore glasses and would eat anything—it was my way of knowing the world. I ate mold, weeds, shoe polish, and fish food. I tasted shit. In the lab at school…
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Doug Cornett

I Begin to Recognize my Lost Loves on TV at 3 a.m. On channel 232, a group of panty-hose-faced robbers shout orders in the airy lobby of a bank, waving their guns in front of them like majorettes. The hostages,…
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Lou Beach

It’s Not There   “It’s not there.” “What’s not there?” “I’m not sure.” “Then how do you know it’s not there?” “Cuz it’s missing.” “Come on, that doesn’t make any sense.” “There are words that have stopped coming to me…
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Wendy Oleson

Our Daughter Ever wish we’d picked another? You whisper at Mary’s party. Our daughter spits on her candles, dives into an ice cream cake with both fists. You bind her in a blanket while I cut cake for children too…
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Frankie McMillan

When Gorillas Sleep I never touched the gorilla, I say. I got better things to do. Then the park ranger plonks his canvas bag on the table and pulls out a tranquiliser gun and we all stare at the gun…
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