by Emily A. Benton
With skin chalked by salt
tossed in a history’s making,
I tottered across the shore
collecting pumiced stones
and searched for fossils,
myna feather, and coins. Continue reading
Author Archives: hipacificreview
Island Aubade
Filed under Poetry
Status Update
by Evalyn Lee
It was like having a stream of people mooning her, looking out the window as the train traveled down to Washington, D.C. This was the close-up asshole view of America: the graffitied walls, all the warehouse depots with their empty ledges, the broken glass, the broken pots, and always the dying, grubby grass on the ground beside the train tracks.
Deborah lifted up her iPhone 4s and took a picture.
Then she updated her status to “Single.” Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
Keeping Busy, Keeping Quiet
by Nicholas Lepre
I was staring at nothing, sitting in the corner of Lickity Splits, waiting for Dougie to close up, when the sea creatures came in. A beluga whale in cutoffs and a little lobster girl in red ski gloves. I’d never seen a beluga look so miserable. This was a Tuesday night, almost ten o’clock. No one had been in for an hour, just Dougie and me, killing time. I was eating my third mint chip cone because I had spotted Dougie a dime earlier that week. Lobster girl had this look on her face like she was exhausted but didn’t want to go to bed. Nine years old, probably. The whale was in a big hurry and kept snapping at her. Fine by me. All I wanted was to close up, pick up a couple Bell Beefers and watch NOVA in Dougie’s basement. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
The South Platte Near Platteville
by Steve Meador
is ankle deep
in many spots
even when thin ice forms
fingers from the wrist of a bank
it is safe to walk
to the sandy center of the river
and stand
in the trickle and tink
When the wind dies
close your eyes
Listen up
Can you hear
horse hooves pawing in gravel
Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
My Summer of the Windows Down
by Martha Clarkson
I’m sitting in a swivel seated task chair with no wheels, waiting to discuss my transfer (and promotion) to Category 5 Light Investigations. I believe the chair is circa 1960. It is September, and the leaves outside are oranging. It is my season of conflict – the beauty of the colors, the inevitable gloomy harbinger of winter.
“What did you do all summer?” my boss asks. He runs his life by the school system, behaving like a fall teacher, even though I’ve been working all summer. He never starts a conversation with the meeting’s reason.
“Umm, well, I drove with the windows down,” I say, straightening my posture, “to lash out at the hermetically sealed world we live in.” I sidelong glance the inoperable windows of our office.
“Well, surely you must’ve done something more than that,” he says, slightly accusatory in tone. “I mean, where did you go in the car with those windows down, you know, on vacation, or to a swimming hole?” Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
Hawaii Pacific Review 