the stonecoast review
the literary journal of the stonecoast mfa
Latest poetry
I remember silence,
not the kind between gunshots
but the silence that hums when the Earth forgets your name.
living in her cheek. Every once in a while,
she’d place a seed on her tongue to sustain me.
Suddenly I’m free, through the double pane,
among—one of them, flapping, gliding, cawing:
They sprawl, heedless of the cultivated plants—
dahlias and calla lilies, scalloped-edged
staff spotlight
Photo by Steve Johnson
Latest fiction
My head bends forward, feet scuffle through pebbly sand, eyes sweep left, right, left. Not a big beach. Descend from Cove Road, heels slide on dirt-packed rock—go slow, don’t break another wrist.
You haven’t slaved at anything until you’ve gripped your knotty, weathered stump and pulled, pulled, pulled so hard that your trunk creaks and groans under the strain.
“Again?”
I ignore Ellie and choose a pair of thick wool socks from my favorite vendor’s cart. Two pairs, since we’re taking the subway.
