Rappahannock Review | kindig-patrick
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FICTION

Waiting for Flight by
Michael Chin

“Carl Perkins spied his son’s ex, Lucy, in the airport terminal…”

Hunger, Not Tame by Sheila Lamb
“Brutal wind beat against the door of her camper. The cold didn’t bother her—Kate had only ever lived in cold and windy environments—but the sand did…”

Where We Are by Jared Yates Sexton
“The thing that really got her was how I listened to records all hours of the night. She said she didn’t care about my moods, my general nihilism or ill temperament…”

Sim Sala Bim by Gina Williams
“‘Is this all there is?’
The question caught me off guard for a split second, sucked a little bit of air from my gut…”

 

NONFICTION

The Line by Amy Collini
“The week before I leave for freshman orientation at Ohio State, my father offers me a gift: an “in” at the plant where he works…”

What of the Raven, What of the Dove by Randon Billings Noble
“A story was growing inside my neck but I didn’t yet know what it said…”

Misfire by Joe Oestriech
“An hour after load-out, Biggie pulls the Econoline into the parking lot of the Raleigh Fairfield Inn…”

 

POETRY

Waterfront Metro Station by Elizabeth Acevedo
“through the speakers
the conductor’s voice scratched
a stop away from mine…”

Everything She Can’t See by Liz Ahl
“The little girl is full of questions
and asks them all, one after another…”

Those Birds by Michael Colonnese
“Lined up on the wire,
each hunched…”

Back Seat Event by Gabrielle Freeman
“I want to kiss you, but
I open the car door, and it is raining…”

Bubble by Jessica Greenbaum
“Walking through the park, I saw a grackle ferrying a
bubble in its beak as it flew to the tree top where…”

Moth in the House by Jessica Greenbaum
“Skimming the wood floor like a bi-plane over the November fields,
might wonder where the breeze went, and all the chorus and lilt of the leaves…”

Futile -the winds- by Benjamin Gucciardi
“My sister once told me
That when it gets hot enough in Arizona—…”

The Bees by Patrick Kindig
“The bees had taken over
the front porch, but I didn’t mind. Covering…”

Introduction by Patrick Kindig
“You draw for me
a map: here the horse’s white…”

Portrait of Enya as Homeless Man Singing by Patrick Kindig
“Sometimes Enya needs
a break from watching over…”

Finding a Way Out by Kelly Nelson
“They chose the same day—
Dillinger waltzing his way…”

Seeing for the First Time His Face by Kelly Nelson
“In black and white, his mug
shot beside the homecoming…”

Quantum Silence by Rebecca Macijeski
“Quiet is not the right word for silence,
for inhabiting your mind so fully…”

Letter to Be Opened Over the Atlantic by Charlotte Mandel
“Soon you take the sky road
to northern generosities of daylight…”

Japanese Studio by Charlotte Mandel
“Talking of stencils: and again he says
‘we know intuitively that…'”

All Fatfalls for You by Mg Roberts
“Things connect by a slowing :: Sometimes people are not meant to remember words :: What I long…”

Portrait of Enya as Homeless Man Singing

 

Sometimes Enya needs

a break from watching over

the sad and the lonely so

she puts on an old American

flag t-shirt and smears herself

with dirt and takes to the street-

corner with nothing

but an acoustic guitar to sing

“Jolene” and “Wagon Wheel”

to strangers. She doesn’t get

much for it: a handful

of nickels, a one-dollar

bill, a condom. Lots of

dirty looks. When women

cross the street to avoid

her gaze, she is tempted to peel back

her skin, to reveal her expansive

wings, her bones of exquisite

sea-glass. She considers mangling

their downturned mouths

with her canine teeth and

her giant cat’s tongue, but instead

she checks herself, smiles, starts

a new song. Sometimes

a man will offer her a swig

of whiskey and she will gratefully

accept. She will cough and whoop

and begin a hymn of praise

and thanks. She will invoke the old stories

about love and forgiveness, about fires

and floods. She will remind the street-

people of the unreliability

of the body, of the bit

in the Bible about not knowing

the time or the hour. On some level

she’s right, you know—about

the flood and the flesh

and the end of time.

Enya always is.

 

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