Additional Selections from This Issue

That Ache

My family and I moved from North Carolina to Tennessee and into a world of confusing adolescent needs and expectation. The prepubescent eleven-year-old girls I left were still trying to decide whether it was time to wear deodorant. Here, in a suburb of Memphis, the girls were already shaving their legs and priming and concealing, risking the tender parts of their necks to create corkscrews that framed their faces.

continue reading >


The drama building is full of it:  bat guano.  So one of our duties this week is to use wide brooms to shove the shit out the back door, into some slippery ferns.

continue reading >

Beds, a Reverie

Earliest coveted bed: my brother’s. A three-quarter bed, larger than a 39”x75” twin, smaller than a 54”x75” double, and more exotic for the oddity.

continue reading >

What We Can Learn from Pascal’s Triangle

God speaks the language of mathematics, in everything from black holes to the design of a humble seashell. 

continue reading >

An Interview with Kat Meads

Amy Wright for Zone 3: Is an interview reverie possible? Might we set up sections of Q&A’s akin to your essay, “Beds, A Reverie”? The trouble is, one rarely knows what prompts those dreamy states of m

continue reading >

The Scream by Charles Haverty

The eroticism of train travel. For Brennan it went back to the movies, to Hitchcock and North by Northwest. That final cut to the Twentieth Century Limited plunging into the tunnel at th

continue reading >

Elegy in December by Alison Townsend

First day of December and I wake to snow, little bits of it flicking down, so light it’s blown every which way, swirling in from every direction. Then it gets heavier and more deliberate,

continue reading >

Archaeologist at Work by Saudamini Siegrist

I set out with an iron pick to trace / on the earth surface, as we once traced / on a turntable with a diamond head / needle, the spiral groove, an act of love. / Recorded down through the ages,

continue reading >

Brother Tongue by Christopher Ankney

We said it was hella salty / when little Mario / called us crackers. / We said it was bloody salty

continue reading >

Elegy for a Living Vastness by Suzanne Marie Hopcroft

Like that, the sea is gone. Not / the sea precisely: what we think of / when we smell it. Flash / of scales, flap of gull-wing / between wave and sky. The fish / are on board, then on shore; /

continue reading >

Disclosure by Lindsey Drager

Ice sculptures hang from the ceiling of the exhibit. They are all casts of the human form; a cavity that features absence, cleared of its mess of organ and tissue and blood. The body is rendered as or

continue reading >

Frequent Flyer Man by Geeta Kothari

A week before he died, my father called me into his study so we could “go over certain things.” My mother had died six months ago, and he lived alone now. Without her to worry about, my fath continue reading >

Love Letter to Vacation by Gary McDowell

The road gives off steam. All of it / evidence. Take 440, merge east to 24, / split further east onto 65, then south. The trouble / with directions, says my old man, is that / they’re so continue reading >