“tupperware” By Robin Gow

at the first sign of rain i went outside into our tiny square of a backyard, took the fishing rod. (the one we used twice a year) (if we were lucky). (from the wall of the garage) (the line still tangled all around everything). i put the spare hooks through my lip (you wouldn't approve) i …

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“To Mourn the Living” By Jennifer K. Kowalski

Grief is a prankster, a child who cheats at hide-and-seek. I tip-toe around it, quiet as snow, while it counts to ten. I know that my stealth is useless because that grubby liar always peeks through its fingers. I never even asked it to play, but once it muscled into the game, it became a …

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“Concerning the morning I would not make love to you” By Jennifer K. Kowalski

because of your twitching hardness, the eagerness of your tongue, and I felt my father hovering behind the closet door beside my robe, the blue one with torn collar— his memory watches from between the scarves you buy me, which I never wear; you know I hate things twined around my neck. because he is …

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“My Three Other Fathers” By Jeffrey MacLachlan

Vietnam Draft Father: My father born exactly one week later is drafted. He leaves the repair shop at Kimbers and smooches Miss July goodbye for jungle brothels and napalm. One night he strips naked because the bullwhips of heat julienne his skin forged in rural frost. A ripple of gunfire whistles across his mouth like …

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