Rappahannock Review | Issue 4.1: Susan Grimm
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Issue No 4.1
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Tidal Volume by Carla Kirchner
“The man in the bed, the bloated body that used to be your husband, is now a whale…”

The Fledgling by Susan Pagani
“A child had died in the neighborhood. A four-year-old girl called Molly. The day it happened, there had been snow…”

Adephagia by Beth Sherman
“Did she get to eat all the sacrifices or were there limits? Yes to pigeon dressed with cucumbers and olives, no to hindquarters of roasted lamb…”

The Blue Cup by Beth Sherman
“She lay on the table and looked up. There was a naked light bulb directly overhead and it was bright so she shut her eyes again…”

Blackbird by Beth Bilderback
“I sang it when he was brand new and still completely stunned to find himself on earth. I sang it while holding his foot through the slats of the crib, a flashlight in my other hand creating planets of light on the ceiling…”

The Leo Burke Finish by Michael Chin
“I was a quiet child. I have theories. Theories about my father’s scolding leaving little room for me to speak…”

Black Market Fish by Jonathan Harper
“We are floating towards the top of the world…”

Trail Magic by JoDean Nicolette
“I met her feet first, just north of the Great Smoky Mountains. I was sitting on a spruce log next to the trail, scowling down at my filthy socks when her boots slid into my field of vision…”

Kiss by Patricia Budd
“Father asked the Navy
for a loan, a dead horse,
to buy the coffin
Grandma favored
for her youngest….”

Dream Man #5 by Krista Cox
“He does not ask you to perch on a curb
outside an abandoned gas station while he accepts…”

Onset of my Quonset by Susan Grimm
“I always think of the grassy beach
hat one of my aunts wore. Conical not pointy. Maybe…”

Or Else by Susan Grimm
“Something elegant. Sometimes eliminated in the automatons
of other centuries. The stocky robots, stiff-armed…”

Elegy for Bob Kaufman by Ashton Kamburoff
“The difference between pleasant
and peasant is a quick ride
on the L. Bone blue window
of the soul, we know that song…”

Eurydice suite by Robert Miltner
“summer morning slow time the quiet of pillowed beds under canopy & branch languid touch & solace…”

Seamus Heaney in Community College Summer School by Adam Tavel
“We drowse in the purgatorial
classroom, blinds cranked closed
while YouTube bogs, stuttering
through The Troubles, the Celtic…”

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Susan Grimm

Or Else

 

Something elegant. Sometimes eliminated in the automatons
of other centuries. The stocky robots, stiff-armed, battering

 

with whacks and buffs. Not the chaff of an idea. The elaborate
rotations and angles, a circumference of reach, an unthinking

 

ease allowing the parts of the arm to rest on the car’s opened
window frame. The bracelet sliding away from the funny bone

 

over the fine gold hairs. An El Dorado of joints whether
you want to blow your nose or a kiss. No need for the devil’s

 

long long spoon or a conduit of straws. There’s a bone end there.
Sharp. Between the upper arm and the forearm with their

 

different musculatures. Something like an elbow. Elbow
of time. A tiny door at the radius, ulna. Turn. Link. Portal.

 

Walk this way (using the knees). Two roads—step off—one wood.

 

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