Her chair is a basket weave of rainbow, her floppy hat a mushroom cap. Every day she sits under the Australian pine, her thin legs stretched out toward the bay, heels dug into the soft sands of Anna Maria Island. She speaks to birds. She tells them where to find mollusks, greenies, pinfish, tube worms, […]
skin
posted by grycorvin
“This must the least favorite part of your body,” said the manicurist, rubbing a rose scented cream into the woman’s hand. The manicurist’s eyes traveled up to the woman’s neck and rested on her face. “In fact, your whole right side is damaged.” The manicurist gave her some cream to take home. The manicurist was […]
notes from the fourth circle
posted by grycorvin
In the Indian summer, when our children went back to school and the heat was still rising from the ground, the unsightly ones hid among the low palm fronds, the saw palmetto, the scrub oak twisted through with vines. But when the cold snapped the ground, they were driven out as if awaking to a […]
Sunshine State
posted by grycorvin
He jumped off the train and went into the station, the conductor in the gray cap. He was shriveled and hunched, like a shrimp. It didn’t seem to Julie he’d be capable of doing much more than riding up and down the rails, taking tickets, but he always had a coin for Buddy, a penny […]
infinitesimal
posted by grycorvin
Owing, never owning, not completely – you wake up to ready your ocean condominium for the renters. The natural light shining off the sand is not what awakens you but the alarm on your cell phone. The storm shutters are still down and it is pitch black. You kept them down last night during the […]
the bed
posted by grycorvin
When they marry, they have a double. It is her box-spring and mattress. She bought it with her mother who taught her how to shop scratch and dent, to decorate with little. They take it with them to Vermont where he teaches college and she works in the library. A river runs by their window. […]
The State of the State of My Party
posted by grycorvin
This is one of my few nonfiction pieces on black shatter. I do not write memoir but for editors and friends who sometimes say it’s good for me. Thanks Matt Potter, editor of the Australian journal “Pure Slush” who encouraged me to write this and then graciously published my best effort. The other day, I […]
