by Jennifer SpiegelZachary picks me up from campus to go hiking. Over my office desk, I’ve written the definition of apocalypse: good overcomes evil, often with violence. He stares at it, doesn’t say anything. ‘Did you get food?’ He looks away...
by Jennifer Spiegel moss malaria butterscotch Ndbele I wake to the sound of roosters crowing. Outside, chickens peck the ground’jerking their chicken bodies here and there. I’m under a mothy blanket that makes my hair itch. When I reach for my toiletries,...
by Jennifer Spiegel Tribal tattoo on the small of Zachary’s back. I trace my index finger over its gray edges. Tracing it, claiming it. He sprawls out on our bed, face down, nearly naked. Boxers half-off, arms outstretched. ‘My world is crashing down on...
by Jennifer Spiegel nipples beads mealie pap The television is on and there are reports of war. Zaire will be the Congo by the time I leave South Africa. Everyone sits around, drinking coffee, reading books, playing cards, rolling joints, writing memoirs. Everyone in...
by Kenneth Cook May 1958 Laura watched the thunderstorm from the living room window. The clouds bloated and darkened, common in the Panhandle in the late afternoons, and then it poured’a gusty, whipsaw wind driving the rain sideways against the house. The rain...
by Charlotte Gullick SFWP’s 2001 Awards Program grand prize winner, Charlotte Gullick, was published by Penguin in August of 2002. The following is an excerpt from By Way of Water Read more about Charlotte. * * * Justy stood at the window, thinking about the...
