Sep 112012
 
Rosa and the frozen tears by Pen Clements

Rosa and the frozen tears by Pen Clements ‘What about her? Would she make a good princess?’ said the King, watching his son and a young blonde girl as they ran across the palace lawns. ‘Rosa? Absolutely not. Neither wealthy nor well connected,’ said the Queen. ‘He’s always liked her,’ the King replied. ‘Since they

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 Posted by at 11:07 am

Late summer by Ruth Jenkins

 Issue 16 (Sept 2012)  Comments Off on Late summer by Ruth Jenkins
Sep 112012
 
Late summer by Ruth Jenkins

Late summer by Ruth Jenkins her fingers bleed from the picking. girl of summer canal-bank dirt: black plastic bags, long feathers, nest of gaudy ties, torn skirts. no, you can’t. not again this time. her basket is full. her skin red with the juice of the fruit that grows by the high humming wires, raw

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 Posted by at 11:06 am

Bachy Soletanche by Jason Erik Lundberg

 Issue 16 (Sept 2012)  Comments Off on Bachy Soletanche by Jason Erik Lundberg
Sep 112012
 
Bachy Soletanche by Jason Erik Lundberg

Bachy Soletanche by Jason Erik Lundberg Bachy Soletanche. Bachy Soletanche. Bachy Soletanche? Nah. Never heard of him. What? Ten? Only ten? Ah, fifty, good. Hundred, even better. Oh, yah, Bachy Soletanche. Yeah, we’s acquainted. Followed his exploits, cheered on, lent an occasional hand. Hands holding huffily hilarious hornswaggles, Horatio. Look, we never actually met. Don’t

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 Posted by at 11:05 am
Sep 112012
 
Hungry Greta by Dan Holbrow

Hungry Greta by Dan Holbrow A big stainless steel fridge stands in one corner of the kitchen. It’s full of food, and the old fridge in the back room–the white one with the old-fashioned rounded corners and chrome handle–is half full, too. And then there’s a freezer in the basement, and a cold room full

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 Posted by at 11:04 am

This December by Lyn Lifshin

 Issue 16 (Sept 2012)  Comments Off on This December by Lyn Lifshin
Sep 112012
 
This December by Lyn Lifshin

This December by Lyn Lifshin A swan moved into the house, camouflaged among geese. She must have been, or the mist from the pond blurred her. I say her because her antics never seemed male. Never threatening, but coy. And never loitering on my side of the bed. I suppose she was cold or starved.

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 Posted by at 11:02 am

The Hair Nest by Mae Empson

 Issue 16 (Sept 2012)  Comments Off on The Hair Nest by Mae Empson
Sep 112012
 
The Hair Nest by Mae Empson

The Hair Nest by Mae Empson Sara knew she was in trouble when her mother told her they were going to see Old Nan. The old witch lived in the forest on the foothills of Crowmount above the coal mine where the men of the town worked. No one went to Old Nan for anything

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 Posted by at 11:01 am

Golden Apples by Tina Connolly

 Issue 16 (Sept 2012)  Comments Off on Golden Apples by Tina Connolly
Sep 112012
 
Golden Apples by Tina Connolly

Golden Apples by Tina Connolly The golden apples are round and smell of autumn. Sometimes the men throw yellow quince, hard as butternut squash, hard as stones. Sometimes they drop ruby-throated nectarines, and then she kicks them, steps on them, crushes them as she runs. The men all know of her quest and they all

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 Posted by at 11:00 am