For two blocks after she stepped off the city bus, she felt her father watching from the upstairs window. He would be half scrolling with his gun in his lap, she thinks. He can’t stop thinking about her sister and what she’d been through. He can’t let it happen again. A girl shouldn’t be alone,…
Tag: prose poetry
Dear Peter Lorre—
by Jessie Lynn McMains Lieber Teufel— You are as strong as you are honest. Says the railroad bridge over the river. The graffiti. The river graffitied with all that autumn light. Rust and rusting, golding and gold. Honesty’s not my business. For example: you make a face, a ghastly, blissful grimace, and it sticks. That…
ArtRoot Writer-In-Residence 