Rappahannock Review | Susana H. Case
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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…”

Let there be spaces in your togetherness
Kahlil Gibran

 

In the end, I suppose I’ve made the life I have and
it’s frivolous to blame the fates. You made

 

your bed…my mother used to say, neatly, with
my every rising infraction when she wasn’t

 

threatening to send me to a home for wayward girls
for stealing makeup, for staying out too late. But

 

now, here I am, decades later, awake in an unmade
bed, humidity soaking the sheets, because

 

the air conditioner is broken and it’s the end of
summer, so you, ever practical, don’t want to buy

 

a new one now, prefer instead to sleep comfortably,
guiltless, in the cooler living room, a heap of

 

old quilt, pallet on the floor, too hard for me, freeing
yourself from my obstinate, sticky closeness—

 

because, of course, we agree that each should have
total freedom, as I search my mind for a possible

 

other reason (bored? angry?)—along with our dog
who dreams vacation, camping trip, though she’s on

 

perpetual vacation, lolling in separation, and
we, well, what does it mean, I hope it doesn’t mean,

 

this disfranchise, this far along in this thing we’re in,
that you, domestic thief, can’t or won’t take the heat.

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