Rappahannock Review | Jessica Goodfellow
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Eventually They All Get Sick by Tasha Coryell
“His mother was sick.”

The Over-Thirty League by Lou Gaglia
“Jesse told me about the over-thirty softball series…”

The Kid Next Door by Zeke Jarvis
“On Tuesday, the neighbors ask Justin to threaten to eat their child…”



Yo Mama So Fat by Karen Craigo
“If I fall, I’ll make an earthquake.”

Gone by Krista Christensen
“I swallow the Xanax like I could swallow truth with it…”

Multiple Choice by Matthew Gavin Frank
“A couple of things: 1) At about the same time Grandma Ruth died, my sister…

Sport by Christopher Lowe
“My father was not a sports fan…`”

What You Feed Me by Kelsey Liebenson-Morse
“1. Caramelized Frog’s Hollow Farm peaches and roasted fingerling potatoes….”

What Gets Worn by Jesse Waters
“I needed a suit. I was twenty-four and didn’t have one.”



How Did Your Father Spend His Spare Time? by Ace Boggess
“It was the 70s, & I too young to learn gamble…”

She Went Into the Lobby For a Box of Junior Mints by Gregory Crosby
“The warm & the cool, the embrace & the gaze, the entangled…”

Ill-Suited by Christopher Dollard
“At the mall, the suits I try on for my best friend’s wedding remind me…”

Proper Abcedarian 1: Turns by Devon Miller-Duggan
“And fall and the light tasting of good scotch, like belief….”

Proper Abcedarian 6: January by Devon Miller-Duggan
“Another bandage, another look-every-stranger-in-the-eyes…”

Meanwhile by Jessica Goodfellow
“Here is a photo of my second son.”

$25 Statutory Witness Fee by Sarah Hulyk Maxwell
“I hear the lawyer use the term spiderwebbing to describe her head…”

A lady never wears panty hose with runners by Sarah Hulyk Maxwell
“our stockings classify
us: nonladies.”

Driving at Night in the Rain by Sarah Hulyk Maxwell
“We find ourselves suddenly over open water.”

Good Vibrations by Daniel Romo
“Who expects lessons from a buff Boston boy.”

Billy Sunday’s Revival Tent by David Salner
“All summer, light towers blaze,
reflect off sweat.”

Museum of Natural History #37, Helen {Keller} by Sasha West
“She launched a thousand stares, a thousand words on the sea of her hands…”

Siberia by Sasha West
“The dirt, the rust, the anchored ships, the gangways frozen.”



Here is a photo of my second son.
He has the same angled ears

as my uncle.
No one has ever said so.

Cousins, aunts, all look at him long and hard
and then don’t say so.

My sister cuts tiny fabric squares,
sews them back together in a quilt.

Her son, younger than mine,
thinks this is crazy. He points

to a blue square, says
“my soccer shirt from last year.”

He smiles as he points,
looking just like his father—

everybody says so. My son wonders
why I don’t quilt, don’t slice

and rearrange ordinary days
we won’t recall into mosaics

that we will. The opposite
of remember, I once read,

is dismember. I am silenced
by the unspoken family pledge:

until we have a body
we cannot say uncle.

Meanwhile, my son picks at his ear,
thinks he looks like no one.

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