Rappahannock Review | Grace Mattern
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Issue No 3.2

Fiction

An Early History of Hang Gliding by Leslie Maxwell
“The day after her mother died, Evie did not go to school. Tenth grade had just begun, and Evie had spent the last three weeks trying to decide who she would be this year, and now, here, just as suddenly, tenth grade seemed far away from her mind…”

Mirror Look At Me by Laura Tansley
“His side of the bed was cold to the touch. Her door was ajar, the bed boldly made to prove a point: she had not slept, not here at least…”

Nonfiction

Meeting Uncle Charlie by Sarah Abbott
“My uncle Charlie drove up in his red sedan, the car in good shape but an older model, and parked to the left of our driveway…”

Three Broken Hearts by Anthony J. Mohr
“It was a Saturday in March 1963. My father and I were having lunch at the Rendezvous Room in the Beverly Hilton Hotel…”

Poetry

Quotidienne by Nandini Dhar
“Mother is busy wiping off the cumin-dust from the old photographs, book-spines…”

Fog in Michigan by Michael Lauchlan
“The big tire beside the highway, the blue bridge, billboards, and all marks of a flat land vanish…”

The Lave by Michael Lauchlan
“On our wedding night, the noise jars us—thieves boosting our mower….”

Widow Gardening by Grace Mattern
“She digs in the garden, pulls weeds by their roots and leaves them to wilt…”

Widow Gardening

 

She digs in the garden, pulls weeds
by their roots and leaves them to wilt
between rows, puts in beans and tomatoes,
pinches fine grains of lettuce and carrot
seeds through her thumb-finger press.
She hadn’t considered the possibility
of pleasure, begins to cry and turns
to fill old holes from the woodchucks
he bombed and sprayed and trapped,
battling the pox of their appetite
for whatever was tender and green,
a hunger hard to beat to the first bite
of what grows to be eaten, what lives
to die, how wide and fast that mouth.

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