From the Archives: “Postmark” by Christopher Barnes

On second-class stamps Paper-castle margins flake And midmost the queen’s A fossil-punch blueprint. Swash your tongue in slaver, Dribble on sticky gum, Thrust a stop-at-nothing thumbprint, Squash that haughty nose. I’m due a letter. Originally published Winter 2009.


From the Archives: “Return to Sender” by Hilary Vaughn Dobel

Don’t you remember the day it froze, nothing in the pantry but oranges? We broke the ice crust on top of the morning’s snow, ate it in slices like bread. Everything tastes out of season now, and there are hunched little women outside, scattering handfuls of blue salt onto the street. In another pastoral, they …

Fiction: “I Dreamed I Saw Joe Hill Last Night” by S. Frederic Liss

April awoke to the hemming and hawing of an electric tooth brush whose battery was running low. The sound reminded her of the spinning top her daddy had given her for her third birthday, a top with airplanes which took off and landed as it jiggled along the pitted linoleum floor of their double wide. It had been …