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Poetry Summer 2014    fiction    all issues


Anne Rankin-Kotchek
Letter to the World
from a Dying Woman
& other poems

Sara Graybeal
Ghetto City
& other poems

Tee Iseminger
& other poems

Lisa Beth Fulgham
After They Sold the Cows...
& other poems

Mary Mills
The Practical Knowledge
of Women
& other poems

Monika Cassel
Waldschatten, Muttersprache
& other poems

Michael Fleming
To a Fighter
& other poems

Daniel Stewart
& other poems

John Glowney
& other poems

Hannah Callahan
The Ptarmigan Suite
& other poems

Lee Kisling
How the Music Came
to My Father
& other poems

Jose A. Alcantara
Finding the God Particle
& other poems

David A. Bart
Veteran’s Park
& other poems

Greg Grummer
War Reportage
& other poems

Rande Mack
& other poems

J. K. Kitchen
Anger Kills Himself
& other poems

Jim Pascual Agustin
The Man Who Wished
He Was Lego
& other poems

Jessica M. Lockhart
Scylla of the Alabama
& other poems

James P. Leveque
Three Films of Jean Painlevé
& other poems

Kelsey Charles
& other poems

Therese L. Broderick
& other poems

Lane Falcon
& other poems

Ricky Ray
The Bird
& other poems

Phoebe Reeves
Every Petal
& other poems

David Livingstone Fore
Eternity is a very long time...
& other poems

Tim Hawkins
Northern Idyll
& other poems

Abigail F. Taylor
On the Pillow Where You Lie
& other poems

Joey DeSantis
Baby Names
& other poems

Cameron Price
Every Morning
& other poems

David Walker
Sestina for Housesitting
& other poems

Helen R. Peterson
& other poems

Writer's Site

Helen R. Peterson


In the company cafeteria the man

murmurs a tune to his daughter,

alone except for a woman

reading a book by the window.

The toddler rings back the words

out of tune. He rocks the child,

diverts her attention to the tvs

the fact that they’re all on CNN

makes her giggle.

He is relieved to quiet the song

until a photo of a child, newly dead

flashes on screen. “Look Daddy.”

his daughter cries, attracted

as children are to people

their own age. “Yes, very pretty”

The father says, and rocks his child

“Isn’t she a pretty girl?”


When grunions make their run to mate

the male sliding his body around the female, her tail

dug deep in the sand, they are unconcerned

about the parasites slipping between their scales

the scummiest of waters flowing through their open mouths

and seeping, filtered, from their gills. They don’t know

salad bars are more likely to make a body sick than sushi,

or that Aunt Mae will someday scrape the mold from their bodies,

bury them deep in a tomb of batter, fry them crisp

in oil that will leap at her wattled arms.

Helen R. Peterson, from Eaton Rapids, Michigan, writes poetry and fiction and is coeditor of The Waterhouse Review. Melons and Memory, her first full-length book of poetry, was published in November 2011 from Little Red Tree Press. Her work has appeared in over 100 publications, both nationally and abroad, and she has read at the Bowery Poetry Club, the Out of the Blue Gallery in Cambridge, the Walt Whitman Homestead, and Rio’s in Glasgow, Scotland, amongst others.

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