Rappahannock Review | Kevin Brown
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FICTION

The Permanent Ache by Gary J. Garrison
“Last week we put out cigarettes on our wrists…”

A Woman Should Have Legs by Robyn Goodwin
“The problem with Nancy’s suicide attempts was that nobody knew about them…”

Mostroferrato, Ancient Stronghold of the Briscoletti Family by Sam Martone
“Go south to a town with a tower towering beside it…”

Accidents by Ian Riggins
“Simple wooden things, painted white, with the usual assortment of bouquets and wreaths—the crosses stared up at me…”

Her Last Friday by Lucas Southworth
“Three months ago, the girl had three months to live…”

To the Wall by Holly M. Wendt
“The inside of her car bakes…”

 

NONFICTION

Justice by Alyce Miller
“On a cold snowy Sunday afternoon, two days after Christmas in 2009…”

The Pine Tree by Joy Weitzel
“Pollen from the male pine cone will drift with the wind, hoping to reach a female pine cone…”

 

POETRY

Mix-tape (#4) With the One I Still Haven’t Learned the Lyrics to by Mark Jay Brewin Jr.
“I couldn’t tell you how early I learned and lost the words…”

Jack Listens to the Language People Use by Kevin Brown
“When Wendy told us she had lost her…”

French Carousel by Susana H. Case
“Midnight in Paris, the party scene at the …”

Let there be spaces in your togetherness by Susana H. Case
“Let there be spaces in your togetherness…”

Imaginary Waltz with a Woman Wearing a Dress of Virga by Christopher Petruccelli
“Her silhouette is caught between windows and hanging …”

The Heron Rookery by Timothy Shea
“Now that the storm clouds have settled like sleeping dogs above the pasture…”

The Haircut by Timothy Shea
“While I know this road is not my river…”

Feature Issue:

The Suburbs

 

NONFICTION

Death Row Report by Dale M. Brumfield
“In 1992, my father toured Richmond, Virginia’s old Spring Street Penitentiary…”

Invalids. Girlfriends. Beer. by Brenna Horrocks
“I needed a change of tempo…”

Lights by Matthew Zanoni Mṻller
“On Saint Martin’s Day in Germany the children would go into the dark woods…”

Bret Hart & the Finished Dungeons of My Youth by Brian Oliu
“Legends are born here: of sweat soaked vinyl & broken bones…”

 

POETRY

Bloom by Kate Bolton Bonnici
“I stepped on a dead squirrel…”

Afternoon Heat Wave, Northern California: Lament for the Gulf Coast by Kate Bolton Bonnici
“Here, heat steals in—no air conditioning…”

Jack Listens to the Language People Use

 

When Wendy told us she had lost her
husband, we wondered at her word
choice:  lost, as if Bill had become
a boy, become an eight-year-old
lost in a grocery store as the PA

system echoed his name through
aisles crammed with consumers and
comestibles, everything but Bill.
But what word should she use
after having heard hospital hedging

for five months? Bill began with
anomalies and insufficiencies, progressed
to pseudo-police speak as his heart
was arrested, as if it will be arraigned,
kept away from law-abiding body

parts for some time. Everything
became acute or chronic, and it ended
in failure, as it always does, as if
we are surprised again and again by our
bodies’ breaking down, as if death is

not in our design. And when we ask
Wendy how she is, we do not want
to hear how she is falling to pieces
or falling apart (like a cheap suit,
my friend Mark often adds); no,

we want to know how she is holding
up or holding it together—whatever
it is—want to believe that Bill
behaved like a boy, became
distracted in a grocery store, spent

too long looking at comic books while
waiting on Wendy: a story we will
laugh about at a cookout at their house
several years from now, gathered
to celebrate one more of Bill’s birthdays.

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