by L. Noelle McLaughlin
Nobody went to work this week
The whole world has the flu
You soup me and save me and gatorade me
I have no choice but to rabbit you afterwards Continue reading
Author Archives: tmielkesuizu1
Psalm Ambulista
Apples
by Mollie Hawkins
1. When he started his job at the organic grocery store, Produce Man brings me apples with names like poems: Pink Lady. Ambrosia. Gala. American Beauty. He brings me the sweet ones he knows I will like.
2. I know three kinds of apples: Red Delicious, the mouth-puckering Granny Smith, and whatever bitter kind grows on my grandmother’s trees in the Alabama woods.
3. Produce Man and I don’t feel like grownups. We slip in and out of college, like we are window shopping at a luxury department store. Work schedules and school schedules do not overlap on our Venn diagrams. Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction
Roadkill
by Jean-Luke Swanepoel
When I was five and fretful, my uncle was the kindest man I knew. Until I watched him run over a dead raccoon on that road to the mall on the outskirts of town. During summer it was a road through a field of green stalks, but it was winter and the fields were barren. He swerved firmly to make contact with the pile of blood and bones which passed like a hiccup beneath the wheels.
Filed under Fiction
Labor Day
by Tom Laichas
No other creature
inks its skin
with song lyrics
or studies stars. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Hawaii Pacific Review 