Single Life #8:
The Capacity for True Love Expires at Age 25 | Amy Groshek

At some point I quit trying to do good 
and tried only not to do damage. 
For every candle I’d lit, 
every flower I’d opened, 
there lay something dead behind me. 
There is killing in all things, 
I’d heard them say, especially love, 
so I was terrified. 
Out some window then 
slipped my hope: dirty captive bird 
taking back the perfect sky. 
And all these years 
this cage kept just for her. 
With her the candles and blossoms 
that covered the smell of the dead. 
I was lighter then, or heavier. 
How she flies. 

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commentary | poetry | fiction | chicago | winter 2008  
Single Life #8 | Amy Groshek 
Parallel Conservatory | Clare Kirwan
Old & Strong  |  Robert Gibbons
Crow | Ramesh Avadhani
Driving Ninety | Mark Spencer
With Her Own Things | Kristiana Colón
Story of a Hall Porter | Edward Mc Whinney
The Halcyon Days of War | B.E. Hopkins
Three Stories | Laurence Davies

Contradiction | from the editor


On the Contrary
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