Fiction Section
"Just now the reader of the letter
Tells of the writer's swift descent
fron wealth to want."
- Edgar Lee Masters, Arabel
When the only benefit inverts,
the thrift store is lending
jewelry and pots and pans and books,
the still dead lie freezing in December
a stone's throw away in plots
called Memory Gardens
amok wid weeds and dreadfully faded
artificial flowers, broken dollarstore vases,
the pattern of shoes and always,
one man standing too far away
to see who he is, the books
were merely old gossip
and seldom worth the paper,
on the so-what number of pages.
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