by Jonathan Louis Duckworth
Dense fog over the Norman coast.
Low sound of a ship’s horn,
like a husky man who groans
to keep himself from nodding off. Continue reading
Navigating Dark
Filed under Poetry
When Billy Weaver Was Killed by a Shark
(Oahu, Hawai`i, December 13, 1958)
by Alicia Potee
There were three mats, three boards, six boys—tangled red,
green, and royal blue stripes. Two bobbed in repose along the lap
of a sailless skiff, one stiff plank propped like an outstretched pair
of bleached balsa arms—its primitive cross signaling stop, go,
the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. The others pearled,
aimless beneath the December sun, at the mercy of broken
waves. One fell behind, resurfaced pale-faced between
Na Mokulua with a feeble cry, the frantic paddle Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Vieques
by Devan Del Conte
The ferry chugged away from the coast of San Juan, and the captain’s voice came over the PA system: they would arrive in forty-five minutes. Leslie and Alec were on their way to the island of Vieques.
Alec scooted back on the slick plastic chair, trying to ease the ache in his lower back. He edged away from Leslie and shrugged his shoulder. The ferry smelled faintly of gas. The chairs were bolted in a series of long blue rows that reminded Alec of his middle school cafeteria. Leslie clutched his arm, moaning complaints about her nausea. This was the moment Alec knew for sure: he did not love her. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
Daughter in the Kitchen
by Francine Witte
is watching her mother whose eyes
are windowed with tears. Damn onions,
the mother says, but the daughter knows
better. She knows that the tears are for
the husband/father who left last week,
who took his cufflinks, his clothing, Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Sabino Canyon
by Scott Bradley Smith
After the rain, the desert smelled of sage and creosote. Mike Brazos pawed the scree, hauled himself onto a ledge. Hands on knees, he gasped and wheezed in the breaking mist. He knew he’d been capricious—a rattler could have gotten him anytime he reached overhead. At the very least, he could have ended up with a handful of cholla spines. But he had arrived at this promontory where, for one last time, he could survey Sabino Canyon as it curved like a fat leg up and into the Santa Catalina range. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
Hawaii Pacific Review 