Poetry Summer 2014 fiction all issues
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Anne Rankin-Kotchek
Letter to the World
from a Dying Woman
& other poems
Sara Graybeal
Ghetto City
& other poems
Tee Iseminger
Construction
& other poems
Lisa Beth Fulgham
After They Sold the Cows...
& other poems
Mary Mills
The Practical Knowledge
of Women
& other poems
Monika Cassel
Waldschatten, Muttersprache
& other poems
Michael Fleming
To a Fighter
& other poems
Daniel Stewart
January
& other poems
John Glowney
Cigarettes
& other poems
Hannah Callahan
The Ptarmigan Suite
& other poems
Lee Kisling
How the Music Came
to My Father
& other poems
Jose A. Alcantara
Finding the God Particle
& other poems
David A. Bart
Veteran’s Park
& other poems
Greg Grummer
War Reportage
& other poems
Rande Mack
rat
& other poems
J. K. Kitchen
Anger Kills Himself
& other poems
Jim Pascual Agustin
The Man Who Wished
He Was Lego
& other poems
Jessica M. Lockhart
Scylla of the Alabama
& other poems
James P. Leveque
Three Films of Jean Painlevé
& other poems
Kelsey Charles
Autobiography
& other poems
Therese L. Broderick
Polly
& other poems
Lane Falcon
Touch
& other poems
Ricky Ray
The Bird
& other poems
Phoebe Reeves
Every Petal
& other poems
David Livingstone Fore
Eternity is a very long time...
& other poems
Tim Hawkins
Northern Idyll
& other poems
Abigail F. Taylor
On the Pillow Where You Lie
& other poems
Joey DeSantis
Baby Names
& other poems
Cameron Price
Every Morning
& other poems
David Walker
Sestina for Housesitting
& other poems
Helen R. Peterson
Ablaut
& other poems
Sestina for Housesitting
Don’t you feel like the forgotten piece
of luggage? The product of heel-
scraping left on the rug before
they all go off to forget
the humdrum. Bottle
of cleaner in hand
like a sidearm weapon, you finger
the trigger. It brings you peace.
Much more than that bottle
of Jack. Far from healed,
you just want to forget
the mess you found just before
you went to bed. You think of before
all this, when “scrubbing on hands
and knees” was only a forgetful
turn of phrase acquired piece-
meal from easily-healed
fairy tale characters bottle-
necked into life-lessons. You think of the bottled
up frustration that needs outlet before
they return, the time you had to walk heel-
to-toe along a night-lit road, arms
outstretched like traipsing. Piece
of cake, you boasted, forgetting
this cop had no sense of humor. Forget
drinking yourself numb. You need to bottle,
compartmentalize each and every piece
of envy you have of them before
you snap and decide to hand
the dog off to the heels
of a stranger. You say he’s a good dog. Heel,
you demonstrate, hoping the dog didn’t forget
that command. Seal it with a shake of the hand.
Good riddance. Instead, you grab the bottle
of cleaner again and spray. You knew before-
hand that you would be leaving pieces
of yourself scattered around like shattered bottles
and they would come home and say, “Before
you leave, just so you know, you forgot a piece.”
David Walker
teaches English at both the high school and college level. He is the founding editor of Golden Walkman Magazine, and has poetry and fiction appearing in several literary magazines including Drunk Monkeys, Words Dance, and others. He has a chapbook forthcoming from Finishing Line Press. Living in Westfield with a hyperactive cat that puts holes in all his window screens, he is married to the love of his life, Caitlin.