My neighbors trudge out of their homes, like gnomes, after a two-day storm so unnatural for the South, wearing worn garments from deep in their closets—knit caps, scratchy coats, and old ski gloves—surveying their roofs and pines to determine the… Read More ›
Selection: 2018
I Found Your Grave in the Midday Sun
I found your grave in the midday sun, I had grown old– but you were still young. Like a sad intruder, on my own I… Read More ›
Winter Hours
Nudging your shoulder reaching for the clock. I had a bad dream. Hon, it’s cold, go back to sleep. Picking up the newspaper near our ice-covered mailbox—headlines soaked, pages frozen, obituaries lost to the late-night storm—our driveway smothered in a… Read More ›
Sestina: White Men are Killing Us
Imagine two elderly white men dying at the hands of a raving lunatic– a forty-year-old black man roaming through White churches to commit mayhem. Imagine him loose in a busy, suburban supermarket or a bustling parking lot with a shiny,… Read More ›
Recipe to be Happy
Yes, back then, I lost the ingredients to be happy. Instead, what I found, for me, wasn’t the best recipe, but now, I do realize, back then, you were happy. Yet, back when you trusted in my new… Read More ›
I Dream a Storm
The rain pounces in violent waves, stripping trees and bursting streams with a torrent of pine and clay. Venomous snakes thrive, slithering across the crumbling sky. Ahead of us, sparkling crack-offs contort in a demented dance of electric shocks on the… Read More ›
Memorial
I. Someone from Somerset, or a group of them, beat him for embezzling their money. That’s what my older brother, Charley, told me. But Mother, back then, said he was robbed in an alley and came away with a broken arm… Read More ›
Our First Family Meeting
Mother called our meeting on a Saturday in August back when we lived on the farm. We were finishing our lunch when she announced she and Daddy wanted to speak with us. Daddy stood at the window staring at the shimmering… Read More ›
The Point of Texting and Driving
It takes no energy alone and behind the wheel to swerve into someone coming towards me. We could die on this Interstate together. Or should I wait until the other driver is ready? I long for the crack of glass… Read More ›
Villanelle: Yet, What’s to Come After?
Losing my job isn’t a disaster. Not when telling my wife the truth that night. Yet, how can I say what’s to come after? The two of us know how much this matters, why do I feel this time… Read More ›
O Pioneers
She said I should wait for her call. I sat watching the phone, worried. She and I didn’t get along, that’s true. When she rang, I knew where she was going as she proceeded to commend me for traveling… Read More ›
jonathan giles 