Two Poems

Two Poems

JODIE FOSTER I don’t know if this is goodbye or the same form of farewell you began whenever you first suffered a love that bloomed under the attention of silence, ether of the word drawn back into your young body like a barely noticed breath, smoke returning to a...
Hector

Hector

or Paris. Or hawk or moth. Or paper or feathers or any number of ways to look at the armor of this, plumage of that. Or how a father’s disappointment seems to cloud these things; how it engages the fight, masks the retreat. How much like a coward. How the arrow flies,...
Kool-Aid Man

Kool-Aid Man

  My parents gave me the name of someone Who would be an asset in our war against the pervasive Demonic forces that threaten us on a daily basis. Our list contained the usual suspects: The Russians, the Count from Sesame Street, Ayatollah Khomeini, Universal Product...
Unhinged

Unhinged

The girl left her house and went into the woods. The ground seemed to swallow the sound of her footsteps, and yesterdays’ rain lifted the smell of leaves into the pink cushions of her lungs. Her nostrils flared to drink the loamy scent. She wore a blue wool coat with...
I Was on the Line

I Was on the Line

Until twenty I was just another hairnet, my hands part of the great machinery like a congress of sparrows, a dynamo powered by gossip and wintergreen. Every bearing was sticky as an old lip. Many of the ladies on the lifetime plan considered me inferior, gawked evil...
Drone Pilot

Drone Pilot

Winner of the 2014 Neil Shepard Prize in Poetry He changes into his flight suit, goes to war each morning— just a twenty-minute drive from Vegas, his wife and kids. He doesn’t talk much about the base, the windowless days, trapped smells of coffee, candy, sweat. In a...
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