Poetry

The Lemon Tree

January 28, 2013 • 0
The Lemon Tree Why do I come here, at night, when the shadows are darkest?   The shade of the lemon tree is as black as water, but I can see moonlight shining on the rock wall and the apple orchard,   and on the yard and field imprinted by my hands, which sweated, and »
Poetry

Matchbox

September 20, 2012 • 0
Matchbox by Nikola Champlin My fingers, which should be familiar, belonged to another woman. The splinter melted the plastic, blackened the wood a coin-sized scorch — an absence. I thought the plastic was green-checkered, but it was the one with roses. Rain fell this morning, in the garden, and the leaves were dry under the »
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Uncategorized

The Jötnar

April 27, 2012 • 0
My daughter came in at twilight when the snow looks blue. She burst in the front door and said, “Daddy! I saw a man walking down in the field, along the edge of the woods!” I looked at her upturned face — her flaming cheeks, her lower lip trembling with excitement, the tracks of her »