by Danielle Deulen | Aug 29, 2018 | Lit from the Basement
Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. I’d wake and hear the cold...
by Danielle Deulen | Aug 29, 2018 | Lit from the Basement
Thirst by Tracy K. Smith The old man they called Bagre Who welcomed us with food And rice-paper cigarettes At the table outside his cabin Was the one who told the soldiers To sit down. They were drunk. They’d seen the plates on our car From the road and came to...
by Danielle Deulen | Aug 29, 2018 | Lit from the Basement
Closing Time; Iskandariya by Brigit Pegeen Kelly It was not a scorpion I asked for, I asked for a fish, but maybe God misheard my request, maybe God thought I said not “some sort of fish,” but a “scorpion fish,” a request he would surely have...
