Crack in the mug the wine seeps into, a pink vein. How close it all feels.How close to the firehouse, how far From home. You bring the pumpsAnd I’ll bring the glitter, but no one’s willing To make the first sound… —from “Impermeable Material Suit,” Summer 2018 (Vol. 59, Issue 2) Tell . . .
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“Panic tightened Jean’s throat. Apple’s face had become the final hold–out, drifting somewhere about her chest. Her shoulders were sloping particularly the left, which hung nearer and nearer the floor. Everywhere drops were swelling, and every so often one would become too heavy and fall to the carpet. She seemed, by will, . . .
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“When Iggy moved now, she shimmered in red, blue, and yellow pixels melding into an overall impression of green. And she was always moving, pacing the cage from end to end. She resisted being picked up, struggling and thrashing her tail. The boy could not help being afriad, but his love only . . .
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Alan pulled up in his new car, watching his father hunched over near the curb, grateful the old man had some pants on. His father was sitting on a stack of boxes put out for the garbage truck, looking at a yel¬lowed copy of the local newspaper, making sure no one could . . .
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“Once a security guard caught me practicing my artin the nearby park. He instructed me to stop my obscenedriveling. I paid him no heed, sent a bubble towards himlike a free-spirited man in a parachute. He wasunmoved. I lose hope, sometimes. I grow weary…”—from “At age 10, I showcase my ability by . . .
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The Double Dealer is back in the hospital. He stands at attention in his three-piece suit, waiting to greet the incoming staff. I’m his favorite nurse because my name starts with D.—From “Therapeutic Recreation” Summer 2018 (Volume 59, Issue 2) Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote.The very first story . . .
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“In 1960s Paris, racism to many new expatriates may have seemed nonexistent. Graffiti in several Left Bank metro stations, however, stubbornly indicated otherwise: À BAS LES NÈGRESJUIFS DÈHORSMORT AUX ARABES(Down with Negroes, Oust the Jews, Death to the Arabs) Somebody was busy.”—from “Down with Negroes!…And Others,” Summer 2018 (Vol. 59, Issue 2) Tell . . .
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“Shamsie condemns Britain’s rising xenophobia and ideas about British purity, but also trumpets London’s convivial diversity, replete as her fictionalization of the city is with Iranian neighbors, Scottish political assistants, and Latin American bodyguards. Despite her focus on acts of terror, this is a quiet, reflective novel, preoccupied by sound yet out . . .
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Photo: A new piece, which is a bit of a “redraw” on the “intimacy is hell” piece (featured in Summer 2018, Volume 59, Issue 2). Every year Abareshi chooses a piece from the previous year to reimagine, “just to sort of see my own changes.” Tell us about one of the first . . .
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Des Plaines, Illinois: Acre of river. River of silver un-grief. River who alibied out. Who is not talking. Of methodical defrost.—from “Bruise Music,” Spring 2018 (Vol.59, Issue 1) Tell . . .
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