j o s e p h y o u n g |
|
|
Such a brief 4 words she told him. The moon was graying out, rosy dawn sliding farther on. |
||
|
The tree cracked at the trunk and stood at the bricks of the house. Sorry, he said to her. Her face was gold for the stream. |
||
|
He believed he might rat her out, tell her father the things she knew. The floorboards were wet, the sun an open zoo. |
||
JOSEPH YOUNG lives in Baltimore. His book of microfictions, Easter Rabbit, is currently available from Publishing Genius. His work has appeared recently in wigleaf, FRiGG, Lamination Colony, and Caketrain. He is collaborating with Easter Rabbit cover artist, Christine Sajecki, on an art show, Cover, to be displayed in Baltimore in April 2010. E-mail him at youngjoseph21@hotmail.com. |
||
a l i c e b l u e t e n I S S N 1 5 5 9 - 6 5 6 7 |