Issue #39
Between the Lines

John had always found women hard to read. Some favoured long, looping fonts, a copperplate calligraphy like wedding invitations.

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Appeasement

I’m late downstairs for breakfast and find Charlotte has already mauled today’s Manchester Guardian, folding it clumsily to the small ads.

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Bare Hands

My Uncle Louie beat a man to death with his bare hands, the same hands that now hold my baby in the living room of my newly dead grandmother’s house.

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Body as a Single-Family Home

My ribcage must be the foyer, all high ceilings and wasted space and a place for the air to circulate. Small voices echoing off the walls of my lungs.

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Liberado

The old man strolls down Avinguda Gaudi, shopping sack in hand, unburdened by clothing. He seems perfectly decent with his trim, white beard and hairless torso.

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My Brother, the Salmon

He’s swimming upstream again, dogged and lean, ready to spawn his latest ideas. I wonder aloud if perhaps he doesn’t need to have all the answers.

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The Rental

At first I refused to leave the house in a robe in front of the new neighbors, and now it hangs open while I take out the trash.

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Iron Shoes

My parents, Olive, and I arrive at Uncle Don’s Memorial cookout after a day spent laying flowers at graves.

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Husband by Sara Cappell Thomason

I want a house, a wife, a steak dinner and all my bills paid on time. I want to settle down in a house and get paid. Dinner from my wife served on time

Ernst Is Coming Home by Jack Morris

The rumours arrive on the dawn wind and by mid-afternoon the village ladies have landed in Leonora’s kitchen to disembowel the news.

Prudence by Christy Stillwell

They put the shock collar on the boy and that was it for the nanny. First they put the collar on one another. They were professors in English and Philosophy, all of them smart people.

The Truths Behind a Pumpjack Dare, Northern Alberta, 3rd July, 1991 by Kate Axeford

I’d hauled myself skywards on steep metal rungs. You were safe below, hurling taunts like stones. We’re two brothers, poles apart, but I’d climbed the ladder. I’d had to. You’d dared me to rodeo the Donkey.

After by Claudia Monpere

and after and after and nothing changes, just the names of the children. This one drew birds wearing hats. That one had an orange juice popsicle for an imaginary friend.