Summer Is Done | MELT
FICTION
Grand Inquisitor by Jim Butler
Bone China by Neale Jones
NON-FICTION
Idaho Fell by Jen Hirt
POETRY
Dreamboat by Kate Benedict
Slipknots by Michelle Lee
INTERVIEWS
Felicia Sullivan by Nita Noveno
Dreamboat
BY KATE BERNADETTE BENEDICT
Where the bilge bled,
what the hold held,
how the stabilizers spread their cunning wings—
as Ship's First Matrix
I was privy to all of it,
I had the Captain's ear.
That's why I was so pointedly wooed.
Red had done his homework, you see.
Red is not that bright
but he's shrewd; he comes prepared.
Guest of the wedding, I accorded him access.
I ushered him aboard,
issued him a card key,
escorted him to the galley and the bridge.
Or he escorted me.
I had the time of my life, watching him levitate.
Only I could see it;
the able seamen hadn't a clue
what cast that rosy light upon my cheek.
The ship went down that night
in the customary flames.
We watched from ...
Slipknots
BY MICHELLE LEE
Here and there I've left slipknots of selves
for dead, oaken and unmoving, yet somehow
they've unravelled, looping out from beneath
so many sweaters and mothballs,
those buried in brown boxes and stuffed
under stairs, ready to be sold or given
away. They tug at my neck,
a scar, a noose, a seizing in the bight.
When I stopped at a red light
she hopped out and stayed in Utah,
land of low sky and high earth
sharp with snow and pine.
If I squint, I can see the taut line of smoke
from her chimney beside the creek.
She fishes at sunset with twine, when she says
mouths are lazy and open.
Later I walked on the cape
and watched a rocket ...
Idaho Fell
BY JEN HIRT
When I moved to Idaho Falls in August 2005, I couldn't take my new home seriously. It was a 75-unit apartment complex with a name meant to evoke grandeur and respite: Shadow Canyon. Two-story buildings ringed a parking lot and a grassy area, and tall Ponderosa pines provided the aesthetics that vinyl siding couldn't. It was within walking distance to the mall, one of two Wal-Marts, and a buffet called Chuck-a-Rama. More importantly, it was within walking distance to a technical college. There, my partner in good times and ...
Felicia Sullivan
INTERVIEWED BY NITA NOVENO
Felicia Sullivan has been described by a fellow writer as a "force of nature" and rightly so. The native New Yorker and Columbia MFA graduate completed her memoir The Sky Isn't Visible from Here while working full time. Felicia is also the co-founder of the KGB Non Fiction reading series in NYC and the award-winning literary journal Small Spiral Notebook. I caught up with the tireless writer after her reading at June's Sunday Salon.
Nita Noveno: When and why did you decide to write this memoir?...
Bone China
BY NEALE JONES
Everyone neglected to tell me that I had a house where my heart ought to be. Maybe they were unaware. Perhaps, on the ultrasound screen, it appeared as a tiny womb within my chest, an open throbbing gash, a wound. It will heal shut, just as any injury, the doctor must have assured my parents. Though it may leave a scar.
Only later did it coalesce into a house. The edges hardening into roofline, window panes, joists, scabs of shingles, little bone studs for framing, a structure pushing back against the press of lungs and muscles, holding open ...
The Grand Inquisitor Comes to Tennessee
BY JIM BUTLER
Even while he was attacking his friend Walter Bob Feston, practically accusing him of being possessed by the Devil, Jackie Barron knew that he was out of control, sounding like a revival preacher he once heard, calling down hellfire and damnation. It was not like him.
Jackie went to church, of course. Going to church and loving Jesus was taken for granted in Cherokee, Tennessee; it was like eating supper, or loving your mother. Being a good person just naturally meant going to Sunday School in the church basement at nine o'clock on Sunday morning, then going upstairs for the sermon at ten o'clock, and—this ...
The Thing About Luzhin
BY MICHAEL MORECI
An Excerpt from Baron's Chronicle
Here's the thing about Luzhin: from the night we met, I knew he was not an honest person. It's an opinion never changed, even as we became what some would call friends. There was something about him that inspired me; here was a person who came to America in the early ‘90s when he was twenty, abandoning Russia in spite of its imminent overhaul. And by the way he tells his story, you can tell Luzhin wasn't discouraged by the abrupt, life-altering move. After all, living in Russia, as Luzhin explained it to me, ...
Hop on the Inaugural Issue | MOVE
Woo-hoo. Celebrate! The inaugural issue is out. Sunday Salon is entering a new phase in its fifth year of existence and bringing you prose galore from some of our favorite writers (and pictures too). Where else can we showcase their talents and reach more readers but on-line? And we’re calling it Sunday Salon ‘zine. A dream come true.
FICTION
Hard-on by Brett Berk
Marionette by Melanie Pappadis
Piedad by Lynee Bamat Mijangos
NON-FICTION
Hawxhurst Road, Circa 1981 by Dara Amchin Underberg
Giants: Parade or Election? by Yucef Mayes
Five ...
The Hello Girls
BY KC TROMMER
Good morning. Operator.
A few hundred calls an hour. Inferno.
Red lights: incoming white lights: connected
damn thing ablaze at all hours.
9 p.m. to 2 a.m. for the new girls, stuffing cords into
machine mouths:
Schenectady 793,
Saratoga 518,
up to the Stony Creek corner payphone.
1957: there is a script. Not Yes but Surely
to the man calling Detroit collect.
The voice was to sparkle. The smile comes through.
One ring, the metal click and
slide of ten girls plugging in.
10:15 and 3:15
could never come fast enough and
if she blinked--Hold, please--
she might miss a break, pull the plug on a man
who called her sweetheart.
Salon Sponsors
Recently Posted
- Summer Is Done | MELT
- Dreamboat
- Slipknots
- Idaho Fell
- Jen Hirt
- Felicia Sullivan
- Bone China
- The Grand Inquisitor Comes to Tennessee
- Neale Jones
- Jim Butler
Categories
