May 10, 2019
by David L. Ulin•
I. The first angel arrives dressed in yellow. I can’t stop looking at her face. She rises from the sidewalk at the crest of Sacramento and Buchanan grinning, mouth cracked open, upturned to the sky. She’s around my age, it looks like, which means she is more old than young. Not old enough, however. Never...
January 10, 2006
by Shane Borrowman•
I’m on my knees in the dim basement, gripping a pistol in my right hand, index finger on the trigger guard. There are six shells in the clip, loaded by beer-clumsy fingers. I’m about to fire them into the man-shaped target 45 feet away. My elbows rest on the battered brown surface of a bar...
September 15, 2002
by Lee Martin•
The crape myrtle at the corner of my house blooms in late July and keeps its color–almost pink, almost purple–long into September. Delicate stems, tinged this same color, connect the blossoms to the berries from which they’ve unfolded. But the blossoms, though freed from the berries’ tight orbs, are crinkled and papery. If I roll...
September 15, 2001
by Sheyene Foster Heller•
for William Carlos Williams Rummaging through our freezer, prospects are slim: four Budget Gourmet dinners, two green chili burritos, a Jeno’s pizza, and a bottle of Stoli. Cubed leg of lamb, chicken breast, and a pound of ground round. Not one single plum. The closest thing we have is a four-pack of strawberry sorbet cups—so sweet, so...
January 18, 1999
by Julie Mullany•
He’s our devil in decaying armor, the modern day cannibal, the suspect neighbor, the psycho Santa, the prank caller, the bad cop, the slow-passing car, the 4:00 am phone call, the disguised cableman, the shadow at the end of the hall, the man on the corner, the man in the alley, the man behind you,...
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