Folk Tale

Justin Runge The fog was a cloud. Appeared on campus like a political figure. Like a holy holiday. Dined on marginalia in the faculty offices. The student newspaper sent its best reporter to the fog, which gave an evasive interview. The fog then moved on to the wetlands, snagging on bracken like hem. Made faces … Continue reading Folk Tale

The Morning Your Husband Surrendered Himself to Prison

Anna Claire Hodge Your Rottweiler was pregnant.           You wondered what to do as her girth neared bursting, what kind of mother she might be. You hadn’t mentioned           children for months, knowing he’d be barred from playgrounds and schools, stacks of pizza boxes and gallons           of ice cream at birthday parties. We spoke in whispers at … Continue reading The Morning Your Husband Surrendered Himself to Prison

Upon Re-Entry

Arden Levine After all that time indoors (the illness, the convalescence) I couldn’t recall which of the wool hats cause my forehead to itch. I’d forgotten that I like to listen to music on headphones while walking to the grocery store, and I’d lost track of the grocery store. Going weeks without checking my mail … Continue reading Upon Re-Entry

Apron

BY LILAH HEGNAUER (for Karen) Tell me the story again, how you made another body of your own and kept him well & here. Imagine: his enormous leather mittens, still filled. Bucket crowded with unwashed russet potatoes. Loss is a far cry from utterly unhinged, just me and my lattice windows. He is gone, and … Continue reading Apron

WIKIPEDIA

BY GREGORY SHERL Mel Gibson is a thundercloud. He formed somewhere over the Midwest, a few years after World War II. They say he emigrated from Australia, a son of prisoners surrounded by water—that they hated the dryness, but what to do? Mel found Catholicism in an unplugged fan. Me, I was born in a … Continue reading WIKIPEDIA