At the Beach, After the Fact

Patricia O’Donnell Four young women make their way through groups of people on spread-out towels and blankets. This is the third day of unusually warm weather for June in Maine, and the beach is crowded. They find a spot close to the water, near the line where the sand is wet, and shake out their… More

Whole and Steaming

Donal Mahoney Dingle, Ireland   The bathroom carpet, wall to wall, is blue, the lightest blue, to complement the bowl and ceiling. Apropos the moment: I bend the waist and heave the gristle from last evening’s steak. Tomorrow I shall row again to see those ancient men in caps and coveralls stand like statues while… More


Ashleigh Eisinger Jessie stands before me, a circus mirror image of the woman I married ten years earlier. Slight and shriveled, the sight of her furthers my longing for the plump blonde that used to laugh with me, that same woman who would not hesitate to shear off her top and slacks before crawling into… More

In the News – Part 4

Alan Drew PART 4 OF 4 Read Part 1 Here Read Part 2 Here Read Part 3 Here “Everything all right, Sarah?” Roberta yelled out from her desk as she passed in the hallway. It was the next morning. Sarah thought she might be able to slip by again, not have to speak to her… More

Ode To This My Undead 2

Emeniano Acain Somoza, Jr. Like divining rods that tremble at the sensing of some hidden wellspring I stretch my tired arms, lay them down, slowly, like a pilgrim with a heavy wreath of cross on my chest hoping to still the undead fountainhead of these Tears. There is a river deep kept raging by the… More

Miss May’s Predicament

Emeniano Acain Somoza, Jr. In many ways she is more like the vase that holds the flowers she tends with backbreaking care in the backyard you’d never see her take off the ring her gnarled finger had outgrown; about time, maybe, someone taught her how to use search engines online Emeniano Acain Somoza, Jr. is… More

What You Remember

Marc Petersen Today, you don’t make it past Livermore. With a hundred miles to go, you pull off the freeway. You park. You get out. You watch traffic pass at eighty, heading northeast. You wanted to see where she’d lived. You imagine roads and barbed wire fences. It was a long walk. This is what… More