Barbara Harroun is an Assistant Professor at Western Illinois University. Her most recent work appears or is forthcoming in i70 Review, Sugared Water, Per Contra, The Riveter Review, Pea River Journal, Hermeneutic Chaos Literary Journal, Mud Season Review, bioStory, The Lake, Emerge Literary Journal, Sediments Literary-Arts Journal, San Gabriel Valley Poetry Quarterly, Lunch Ticket, The […]
<< Read Part 1 << Read Part 2 << Read Part 3 I followed her out and around the corner. We stood fifty yards away under the shade of an alder. The man, if paler, could’ve passed as a statue. The cast his silhouette on the dirt pile in front of him. “How long has […]
“Our indiscretion sometimes serve us well, when our dear plots do pall…” – Hamlet, 5.2.7, Shakespeare. “The dawn has descended upon us,” said the Elder, “Let us hurry, or be hunted Let us conjecture, or be battered Let us herald, or be outwitted.” The little girl, inebriated in the beauty of the words, Is lost […]
<< Read Part 1 << Read Part 2 A knock startled me. I coughed and turned around. I coughed again when I saw that it was Diana Salvaggio. The Diana Salvaggio. The alive one, at least. Her hand was still in a fist against the doorframe. I gave a smile, which she reciprocated. I couldn’t […]
”Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it. Listen: these are its hooves: it has gone off, like a horse.” – Sylvia Plath Below the highway darkness turns the heath To ancient shapes, to where the wind trots on hooves, The mist acloak swirling, or further back To that with eyes and […]
<< Read Part 1 I stared at the closed door. There was a guy who wanted to kill himself with the means and motive outside. How did Frankie expect minimum wage me to keep an eye on him? I turned to look at him through the window. The man stood in front of a mound […]
It was the day that The bird flew away to a horizon Unknown, beyond reach Incapable of childish marriages and fluid births, Setting out a cry, distinct in its screech, the retaining tone Scratched the earth, until colorless blood oozed out of it Drop by drop, and then a flood… I did not remember anything. […]
