Picture Liberty spinning so fast that (like the blades of an electric fan) her arms / disappear.
An except from Emily Carr’s novel-in-verse forthcoming from Spork Press in October 2019
Gurney Norman Prize for Fiction: 3rd Place
There was an inscription near the front. Perfect cursive, a date from a long time ago. “To Opal. I’m sorry I’m so repulsive. Love, Archie.” Not all of them had inscriptions but they all had the name, “Opal Atwood” on the back cover in thick permanent marker. Opal seemed like she had been scared someone would steal them. Tonight, she was probably turning in her grave.
Fiction by Raisa Tolchinsky
“I’m said to be a very gifted analysand,” you humble-bragged in your interview, quite elegantly. I used to be so efficient with my therapist’s time, but the older I get, the more agile I become at skirting the stuff that makes me ugly-cry.
Creative Nonfiction by Candace Walsh