The Ear as Rifle
Tania Van WinkleWhen he sleeps
I go hunting
for the duration of a cigarette
beneath the bare bulb
porch light, never stepping from
inside its limited reach.
In the darkness
out beyond where the front walk
ends, they are there;
ginger steps. Each footfall
the sounds that leaves make
as they freeze. Steps one
by one a chest tightening
bone crackle of leaves
decomposing. A cautious
time-lapsed
sound of hooves.
I know they are out there
just past the ridge of trees
waiting,
listening for me to make a move.
They never come
into my crescent of light. Pine
needle and leaf all
will cease before
we ever meet.
Issue 10
Figurative vs. Literal
Fall 2009
Nonfiction
This Is a Woman
Gretchen Clark
Excerpt from Crocodile: Memoirs
From a Mexican Drug-Running Port
David Vann
Poetry
Five Scenes from Six and Renaldo
Linda Phillimore
After Sappho
Christina Hutchins
Remainders
Christina Hutchins
The Music Inside
Christina Hutchins
The Ear as Rifle
Tania Van Winkle
Arriving in New York for My Grandfather’s Funeral
Alison Doernberg
Honeysuckle
Alison Doernberg
The Crossing
Caroline Knapp
Notes on Summer
Michael Gross
Notes on Continuation
Michael Gross
Fiction
Spanking Without a Cause
Kevin Killian
Dust
Patty Somlo
You Are Here
Elizabeth Rosner
Brother and Sister
Grace Andreacchi
The Ugly Duckling
Charles Haddox
Art