My grandfather let it slip like a joke that years ago in Widener’s Valley, back in that Virginia sawmill town, Grandmother drove herself to the…
I washed your clothes that smelled of urine and vomit, twice through the cycle, with colorfast bleach and the hottest water. I folded them, matching…
The kitchen smells of cleanser, bread and spices. I sit among them when we talk, my elbow on the table, window ajar despite the cold…
Once I drew the conclusion that love is a loosely officiated charade, I pooh-poohed any notion of ever being worthy of redemption. I felt I’d…
In my fairy tale life my friend would never have hung herself. My other friend would have survived the self-inflicted bullet she shot through her…
No hiding from it. That Sunday night I had to ride the forty miles, reckoning I’d outrun the storm grumbling up behind. Ambushed at half way,…
My fingers fit perfectly in the spaces between his. At night he would wrap his arms around my shoulders, I’d lay my leg across his…
River & South Review is a student-run literary journal. We seek new work by emerging writers of any age who have not gone on to a…
Lake sensed carnivorous eyes examining her body from the damp, dark corner of the cell. It was just a rat. She hoped. But even a…
“The great blessings of mankind are within us and within our reach; but we shut our eyes, and like people in the dark, we fall…
*Honorable mention for fiction in the 2nd Annual Arizona Writer’s Conference. Starr stood on the dock and stared across the water at the Escape. Angry clouds boiled…
*Winner for nonfiction in the 2nd Annual Arizona Writer’s Conference. I’m standing against the sink, hands elbow-deep in suds and floating spinach. Picking up a…
You are the Dead Sea, The Wind that burns my fragile skin, The Salt I taste, in the air, caressing my lips and Whipping my…
Dear Houdini, I’m sorry you’re not cool anymore. I’m sorry, I love you. But I’m not. Then again, I’m not sorry I’m not the new…
The poem cannot wash clothes mop the floor pack a bag or make this bed. The poem does not whisper, Eres muy bonita dance to, Let’s Stay…
*Honorable mention for poetry in the 2nd Annual Arizona Writer’s Conference. Mongkok Street is congested as a head cold you get when the seasons change, the…
“How does it feel to be old?” “It’s horrible.” My grandpa recently went to Alabama where he buried his older brother. Most of his friends…
He died so close to prom we decided to bring him anyway Fit him for a tux Called the hearse a limo We brought flowers…
I never wanted to play in Little League. My legs were more fit to be crossed in front of a Nintendo than to be dragged…
he was a tree, struck by lightning. [tall, thin, blackened] but his skin was metallic silver when the light hit just right and his hair…
*Poetry winner in the 2nd Annual Arizona Writer’s Conference. Zephyr slips around stiff and swaying branches spends a moment with every individual leaf moves on to the next tree trailing a tailing of movement I am mesmerized by the gentle play through the green this wind that is the same pushing and turning heavier trees with creaking and groaning and snapping Each leaf is caressed in a massage of some godliness making me want to climb into high bending limbs to be touched that same way like I’ve not been I can’t help but watch the tops of tall trees before the rain their arms all lifted up in the constancy of perpetual prayer as the airstreams rustle them like a benign distracted parent What if these small breezes all the way to Kansas twisters are not just the breath of our god but god itself speaking in a thousand tongues all at once and everywhere What if that air is a measure of love and indifference of gentleness so great our hearts are broken open with it…
I’m sitting in this compact car, listening to the Sirius free trial, the vacuum suction cup hissing from my dusty windshield, while the man in…
Aromas of coconut cinnamon, then coconut again, hang over cosmopolitan coffees and mis-matched tables. A trail of blood splashes soaked into the pavement a relic…
Walking past rooms for three as we make our Sunday visit to her father, my wife said, “Just shoot me.””Sorry?” “Just shoot me if I…
Like a dreamer settling into a long, deep sleep, you sink oh so slowly into an immensity of blue, a stream of bubbles rising from…
The lady whispered to leave you my void so I waited patiently till you had your fill, till your senses became inflamed, invective cursed my…
adorn the snags: oaks, pines— vultures rest for the night. In early morning light, the wind lifts them to scour the roadways for the frosted…
I held you at arm’s length and sang the blood and bones back into your body. My words were needles that stitched up your screaming…
The grass is cold against my cheek. Blades tickle my throat, the gravel of the curb digs into my knees. The insides of my eyelids…
The man slit the last Lahontan cutthroat trout up the middle and scraped out the guts with his forefinger. It was probably the last one,…
When she woke up she carried something in her womb that she had not carried the night before. She woke up and knew that it…
I should be much more excited than I am. Every person I have told—each colleague, relative, health care provider, acquaintance—has squealed when I mentioned it.…
I didn’t learn how to ride a bike until I was eight. For years I had tried, and failed, and I had convinced myself that…
Sears. JC Penney’s. Belks. No malls. Santa Claus was dad in the attic bumping around. Magically a bike. Frigid cold winters deep with snow. Russian…
Honolulu, HI 2013 The marathon’s end hangs over the future, a welcome sight showing signs of age, its own and some still crossing under. The…
1. Preparations The rows of earthenlamps, with their tiny little lips to kiss the day are pulled off the tower of clay by wet hands…
Middle of my childhood summer: I’d ask Mom to hide Easter eggs around the house. She’d heave an exasperated, motherly sigh, likely on behalf of…
Three things lie on my bedside table: An ashtray, a condom, and my love for you. The tapestry he gave me is fleeing the wall,…
Earlier in the evening, they had dinner with friends. She made a salad and he picked up a red blend from McEachern’s. She hadn’t liked…
I have watched her die every day for 6 months. I love her more because we are losing her yet hate her for leaving us. …