spring 2014
Table of Contents
Return to Home Page
We Are At Our Best
When the Rain Ceases Falling on Hanover
Richard-Yves Sitoski
Lost and Found Things I Noticed . . . Ricky Garni
The Day The Rain Stopped
Jane Mellor
In the South Chilcotins
The Shell
Rob Taylor
An Interview with a Caribou Richard Kelly Kemick
Procne
Carolyn Nakagawa
No Small Effort Joseph Dorazio
The Last Year of His Life Barbara Brooks
Poem for Jeff
Poetry Shortage
Kayla Czaga
The Ford Takes Us to Wreck Beach
Melissa Sawatsky
I Invent a Character Before Lunch
Steve Klepetar
Ariadne: the untangler
Fiona Mitchell


Procne
Life is a pile of small tragedies, she said,
hoping it would make a good Facebook status.
He looked sympathetic, but didn’t reach for his phone.
Do you think that’s how your sister felt?
Of course not. What happened to her. She
didn’t need to notice the rest of it.
He nodded. The recorder
picked it up.
But she’ll be remembered. Her music.
Yes, we’re producing an album (unfinished)
the way she would have wanted.
(I am, she thought.)
She would have wanted people to hear.
A message, he said. Would you call it inspirational?
What would you say to her, if she could hear?
I’d say, silent no more, sis. Everyone’s listening.