Our Chernobyl

Our Chernobyl

From my window, I look out at Montpelier’s empty streets, trying to tune out the COVID-19 news updates that ping and bing on my phone, asking myself why this all feels so eerily familiar. I know this jumble of emotions. Fear, helplessness, despair, and also the sense that we’re all in this together.

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The Social Virtues Series

tilt shift photography of green fruit
GMR
 

Recent Posts

Freight

Freight

Your anger arrives on the back of a train/Arrives in my yard. The neighbor’s grass too long, and the city getting interested

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Scissors of the Air

Scissors of the Air

A visit to the hair salon every seven or eight weeks for me is the emotional equivalent of attending a high school reunion, the kind where two popular girls, naturally both cheerleaders, rush you in the restroom line, singsong, “Are you married yet? We didn’t think so,” and whizz off in a confetti of giggles.

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Green Mountains Review, based at Northern Vermont University, is an annual, award-winning literary magazine publishing poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction, literary essays, interviews, and book reviews by both well-known writers and promising newcomers.

8 + 10 =

Agency

Agency

Rose swivels the guest chair with her back to Steven Reiser. Rather than face his desk, she looks out wall-to-wall windows at a slice of Pacific Ocean horizon or glances into the hallway through Steven’s open Funk, Ogden, Upton, and Rosen Agency door, to avoid viewing some revolting thing like the saliva tongue roll.

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The Loft

The Loft

Evan Merrill walked to the opening at the far end of the barn loft and told his sister to get ready to take her clothes off.

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