Truth
Terrance Hayes - { Black Confederate Ghost Story }
Shannon Elizabeth Hardwick - { Worst of It }
Jay Sefton - { I’ll Have a White Zinfandel }
Jeff Boyle - { Apostrophe }{ The Thing Is }{ Domesticity }{ Constantly Approaching Zero }
Reesa Grushka - { Horses }{ Prayer }{ Constellations }
Liz Howort - { Words on Which I Float }
Bernadette McComish - { The Gospel of Donna }
Sarah Heller - { Leaving Egypt }{ Ars Novelica }{ Company }
Untruth
Jeff Friedman - { Willhem of Hands }{ Power Point }{ Pillar of Salt }{ Home Magic }
Syreeta McFadden - { Wingman }
David Ebenbach - { First Flowers }{ The Four Seasons Club }
We Don't Know and They
Won't Tell Us
Shannon Elizabeth Hardwick - { What Man Made }{ Francine Hates Antique Stores for Their Bowls of Lemons }{ How a Home is Made }
Ronda Muir - { Names from History }
John Findura - { Adrienne, I Heard You Were Trapped }{ My Fascination With Mercedes }{ Recharging the Batteries }
Michelle Campagna - { Salt }{ History of an American Face }{ Firebird }{ Satellite }
| Horses by Reesa Grushka |
In the same green bower at the top of the park
each afternoon at three o’clock
our daughter regrets the horses—
two tall horses tied with white ropes to the trunks of cedar trees
one snuffling in the grass
and the other looking pointedly at us—
an apparition breath could melt
disrupting the ordinary procession of grey cats and crows
with their shadowy dreaming
they stopped here only once,
the officers in their riding gear
lounging under an olive tree drank water and talked about their wives.
Let this be a lesson—
our daughter, in learning to speak
speaks absence first
and there is nothing we can do
to lure the horses back
and there is no way to explain why not.
