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Fall 2012: Poetry


In 4th Grade, Sally Teaches Me the Bases

In the broad field behind Merion Elementary, where
the heavy-soled shoes of boys playing ball had knocked up
all the grass, leaving dirt puddles we bathed in during recess,
Sally, freckles sprinkling her face like the cinnamon sugar

spread on my toast that morning, leans in close
to tell me she’d learned something major on Saturday,
had notes to share with me. Enumerating slowly
on the ringless fingers of her right hand, she lists:

1st: French kissing, his tongue the doctor’s depressor in your mouth.
2nd: he cups your boob, over the cotton training bra you’re proudly wearing.
3rd: he fingers you, the way the plumber might unclog a sink.
Finally, home base: when he climbs on top and sticks his

thing in you, but it’s too gross to go into further,
and Mrs. Madison is calling us in for more map making which
I’m already failing. The next day, Sal’s details still cling, like
a seeing eye dog that will lead me everywhere from now on

from the classroom to the bus, from the bus stop three blocks home,
from the supper table to the alley, where the kids on my street
play stickball, their voices ringing out the numbers on every hit.
If baseball was the game we all were playing, who was watching

from the bleachers, which of us not watched?
At the junior high pep rallies I huddle with Sal, jeering
at the jocks, the cheerleaders who kept us off their squad,
the vice-principals, their eyes shining at the sport, the tendons

in their fat necks bulging as they shouted the boys to hurry
round the bases and come home. 12 runs to 9. We always won.
Sally never married, but I did. I knew all the rules –
how to walk a man, how to bunt, how to score.



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Poetry Thumbnail Art   Prose Thumbnail Art   Artwork Thumbnail Art   Young Voices Thumbnail Art   Contributors Thumbnail Art
Poetry

Fourteen poets fill this section with mothers, daughters, sons; with dreams, promises, hauntings; with joy, pain and what lies in between.

 
Prose

I am a world creator ... . I am a voice finder. (S. H. Aeschliman, “On Voice”) Meet five prose writers who will guide you into unique worlds and invite you to hear their creative voices.

 
Artwork

Three photographers and two painters make the pages of this journal sparkle with color, light, variety.

 
Young Voices

We are proud to introduce five emerging writers whose work shows a depth of talent and creativity that will delight you.

 
Contributors

Here are the 27 authors and artists whose work make our first online issue so extraordinary.

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LETTER FROM THE EDITORS

POETRY

        To the Friend Who Talked Me Down by Amy Schutzer

        Memorial Day on South Greeley Avenue by Penelope Scambly Schott

        Lost Rubies by Deborah Brink Wöhrmann

        Everything between your palms by Jaime R. Wood

        315C by Kristen Roedell

        In 4th Grade, Sally Teaches Me the Bases by Betsy Fogelman Tighe

        Swan Song by Jaime R. Wood

        We by Carrie Padian

        The Supplicant by Emily Pittman Newberry

        Jailhouse Call by Kelly Running

        spoon by Brandi Katherine Herrera

        my in mind ungrammared kiss by Melanie Green

        Beyond Reach by Leah Stensen

        You must give up your dead by Kristin Roedell

        Tree Ghosts by Tricia Knoll

        Personal Interview by Penelope Scambly Schott

        Fairy Tale I Haven't Read Yet by Donna Prinzmetal

PROSE

        One Small Thing Right by Nicole Rosevear

        How Mom Played Sad by Sally K. Lehman

        Running with Dragons by Trista Cornelius

        High Priest by Robin Schauffler

        On Voice by S.H. Aeschliman

ART

        Lush iii by Tina Tran

        The Commuter by Denise Hrouda

        Which Witch by Denise Hrouda

        The Center of Two by Jolyn Fry

        A Knot Unties by Jolyn Fry

YOUNG VOICES

        weight bags by Calli Storrs

        No Parking by Frances Bringloe

        Falling in Love by Chaquita McClendon

        Go On Then, Gunslinger by Allison Stein

        Fishing Float by Sage Freeburg

CONTRIBUTORS