The Dead by Maura O’Connor

artist: irune bo by Maura O’Connor one by one, they were all becoming shades… —James  Joyce I fled your deaths. They happened anyway. Me, the missing witness. Michael, I will miss you most. The roses you gave me the night you told me you hated me. The song you wrote comparing my eyes to ocean…

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Eighth Grade

Artist:  Mohamed Sobeha by Catherine Zickgraf We were empty-eyed cinder blocks, ringed keys unlocking the doorknobs. Among junior high’s sleepy congregation, an audience of our class’s generation, only some of us showed up praised and amen-ed. School taught me typing for college essays and gave me chances to run away. We’d flood from the school…

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Honeymoon on the Volga

artist: Michael Hedges by William Doreski This is our third honeymoon and the first on which you’ve spoken to me, to anyone. The Volga flows under our little room. The innkeeper wields no recognizable language. Your native Russian means nothing to him. When English falls from my mouth it writhes on the carpet, where he…

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