Tag: dancing girl press

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Mary McMyne’s “The Bzou”

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This selection is from Mary McMyne’s chapbook, Wolf Skin.

The Bzou

Three times, he comes after me on the back porch. Three times.
The first I’m just a child, pigtailed, six years old. My favorite show
is Thundercats; my mother still tells stories about the Big Bad Wolf.
I sit on the steps with a friend, eating popsicles. When he stands to go,
I’m happy to stay behind and lick my popsicle, to feel the hot summer
sun on my toes. Then he comes around the side of the house, the bzou,
a hybrid of Liono and Big Bad, sharp-toothed, red-eyed, half-man,
half-beast. I scream for my mother, but no sound
will come out of my throat.

 

The second time my friend stands to go, I sit up straight, ignore my popsicle.
My skin prickles when the door slams. I stand, the boots I wore in eighth grade
pinching my toes. When the bzou comes around the side of the house, this time,
he has become the American Werewolf in London, wild-eyed, long-nosed.
He moves quickly, legs swiveling from great shoulders, his jaws opening
in a bloody-toothed snarl. I run to the back door, cursing the knob
that won’t turn, screaming for the mother who does not answer
as he lopes, red-eyed, toward me on the porch.

 

The third, it is strange to be sitting on the steps at all. I’m wearing
a blazer and dress shoes, bifocals I won’t need until my thirties. I set down
my sticky popsicle to gaze, puzzled, at the yard I haven’t seen since my mother’s
house sold. There’s the fig tree, the birdfeeder, the scarecrow she stood in the garden
each fall, despite the fact that its arms were always covered in crows. Looking back
at the screen door, behind me, I know that the knob will not turn, that my mother
will not answer. When the bzou comes, this time, I will be on my own.
But when he does come around the side of the house, he is smaller
than I remembered, more man than beast. He walks slowly to the porch,
apparently nursing a wound. He doesn’t want to meet my eyes.
Look at me, I tell him. His are bloodshot.
He winces when I say, I don’t believe in you.

 

—

This selection is from Mary McMyne’s chapbook, Wolf Skin, available from dancing girl press! Purchase your copy here!

Mary McMyne is the author of Wolf Skin, a chapbook (dancing girl press, 2014). She grew up in south Louisiana, studying English and creative writing at Louisiana State University before moving to the east coast to study fiction. Since earning her MFA from New York University, her poems and stories have appeared in Word Riot, Pedestal Magazine, Painted Bride Quarterly, Los Angeles Review, New Delta Review, and many other publications. Her criticism has appeared in American Book Review. Her poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and the Rhysling Award, and her fiction has won the Faulkner Prize for a Novel-in-Progress and a Sustainable Arts Foundation Promise Award. Since 2011, she has lived in Sault Sainte Marie, Michigan, where she is co-editor of the journal Border Crossing and an assistant professor at Lake Superior State University. Learn more at marymcmyne.com.

Meagan Cass is an Assistant Professor of English at the University of Illinois Springfield, where she teaches courses in creative writing, independent publishing, and composition, curates the Shelterbelt reading series, and advises the campus literary journal, the Alchemist Review. Her fiction has appeared in Hayden’s Ferry Review, The Pinch, Hobart Web, PANK, and Puerto del Sol, among other journals. Magic Helicopter Press will publish her first fiction chapbook, Range of Motion, in January 2014. She holds a Ph.D. in English from the University of Louisiana Lafayette and an MFA in fiction from Sarah Lawrence College.

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Mary McMyne’s “Love”

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This selection is from Mary McMyne’s chapbook, Wolf Skin.

Love

is an insect taking wing from corkboard,
sloughing off formaldehyde, the ping
of pin, the flutter of label to floor. Love
is shattered glass, the hammer I found
in the shed, the seven nights of stars
above the old mound where grass
has just begun to worm up through snow.
Love is the luna moth I spotted on the back porch
last night, fluttering in the old light trap.
Love is seeing her face in the glow
of lime-green wings behind the transparence.
Love is divining what has returned
to you, when it does, and letting go.

—

This selection is from Mary McMyne’s chapbook, Wolf Skin, available from dancing girl press! Purchase your copy here!

Mary McMyne is the author of Wolf Skin, a chapbook (dancing girl press, 2014). She grew up in south Louisiana, studying English and creative writing at Louisiana State University before moving to the east coast to study fiction. Since earning her MFA from New York University, her poems and stories have appeared in Word Riot, Pedestal Magazine, Painted Bride Quarterly, Los Angeles Review, New Delta Review, and many other publications. Her criticism has appeared in American Book Review. Her poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and the Rhysling Award, and her fiction has won the Faulkner Prize for a Novel-in-Progress and a Sustainable Arts Foundation Promise Award. Since 2011, she has lived in Sault Sainte Marie, Michigan, where she is co-editor of the journal Border Crossing and an assistant professor at Lake Superior State University. Learn more at marymcmyne.com.

Meagan Cass is an Assistant Professor of English at the University of Illinois Springfield, where she teaches courses in creative writing, independent publishing, and composition, curates the Shelterbelt reading series, and advises the campus literary journal, the Alchemist Review. Her fiction has appeared in Hayden’s Ferry Review, The Pinch, Hobart Web, PANK, and Puerto del Sol, among other journals. Magic Helicopter Press will publish her first fiction chapbook, Range of Motion, in January 2014. She holds a Ph.D. in English from the University of Louisiana Lafayette and an MFA in fiction from Sarah Lawrence College.

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Mary McMyne’s “The Woodcutter’s Wife”

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This selection is from Mary McMyne’s chapbook, Wolf Skin.


The Woodcutter’s Wife 

“Lead them into the middle of the thickest part of the woods,
make a fire for them, and leave them there, for we can
no longer feed them.”

– from “Hansel and Gretel” (Grimm tr. Ashliman, 1812)

 

 

It rained all that summer. The blight
took the carrots first, then the potatoes;
a mosaic of black laced the turnip leaves.

 

By winter, none of us had eaten anything
but dandelion soup and warmed water,
dirt and thimbles of grain in weeks.

 

The boy scrambled in the cupboard, stealing
precious seeds. The girl went looking for berries
but found only husks, a hive of dreaming bees.

 

The beast that slept at the bottom
of my belly woke; thin-tailed, wild-eyed
wreck of saliva and tiny-fanged teeth,

 

it danced in its hollow den – howled,
stamped, and clawed the walls – until
I knew nothing else but its desire to feed.

 

Make a fire for them, I told my husband.
It was kindness. Let them find their own way,
far away from us, among the trees.

—

This selection is from Mary McMyne’s chapbook, Wolf Skin, available from dancing girl press! Purchase your copy here!

Mary McMyne is the author of Wolf Skin, a chapbook (dancing girl press, 2014). She grew up in south Louisiana, studying English and creative writing at Louisiana State University before moving to the east coast to study fiction. Since earning her MFA from New York University, her poems and stories have appeared in Word Riot, Pedestal Magazine, Painted Bride Quarterly, Los Angeles Review, New Delta Review, and many other publications. Her criticism has appeared in American Book Review. Her poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and the Rhysling Award, and her fiction has won the Faulkner Prize for a Novel-in-Progress and a Sustainable Arts Foundation Promise Award. Since 2011, she has lived in Sault Sainte Marie, Michigan, where she is co-editor of the journal Border Crossing and an assistant professor at Lake Superior State University. Learn more at marymcmyne.com.

Meagan Cass is an Assistant Professor of English at the University of Illinois Springfield, where she teaches courses in creative writing, independent publishing, and composition, curates the Shelterbelt reading series, and advises the campus literary journal, the Alchemist Review. Her fiction has appeared in Hayden’s Ferry Review, The Pinch, Hobart Web, PANK, and Puerto del Sol, among other journals. Magic Helicopter Press will publish her first fiction chapbook, Range of Motion, in January 2014. She holds a Ph.D. in English from the University of Louisiana Lafayette and an MFA in fiction from Sarah Lawrence College.

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Mary McMyne’s “Estate Sale”

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This selection is from Mary McMyne’s chapbook, Wolf Skin.

Estate Sale

 

Her clothes do not fit me.
She was wire thin, a mannequin.
I have no brothers and sisters.
Seven black coats sway in the wind.

 

I’ll keep the spectacles she died in,
her favorite nightgown. But everything else,
I tell the husband I married late in life, has to go.

 

On the card table, brooches, necklaces,
faux pearls, an antique pin.
The cold clear clatter of nickels.
My breath puffs cold in the November air.

 

Sell it all, I tell the husband I married late in life
after I’ve forgotten everything she ever told me.
Seven black coats sway in the end, then fly away.

—

This selection is from Mary McMyne’s chapbook, Wolf Skin, available from dancing girl press! Purchase your copy here!

Mary McMyne is the author of Wolf Skin, a chapbook (dancing girl press, 2014). She grew up in south Louisiana, studying English and creative writing at Louisiana State University before moving to the east coast to study fiction. Since earning her MFA from New York University, her poems and stories have appeared in Word Riot, Pedestal Magazine, Painted Bride Quarterly, Los Angeles Review, New Delta Review, and many other publications. Her criticism has appeared in American Book Review. Her poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and the Rhysling Award, and her fiction has won the Faulkner Prize for a Novel-in-Progress and a Sustainable Arts Foundation Promise Award. Since 2011, she has lived in Sault Sainte Marie, Michigan, where she is co-editor of the journal Border Crossing and an assistant professor at Lake Superior State University. Learn more at marymcmyne.com.

Meagan Cass is an Assistant Professor of English at the University of Illinois Springfield, where she teaches courses in creative writing, independent publishing, and composition, curates the Shelterbelt reading series, and advises the campus literary journal, the Alchemist Review. Her fiction has appeared in Hayden’s Ferry Review, The Pinch, Hobart Web, PANK, and Puerto del Sol, among other journals. Magic Helicopter Press will publish her first fiction chapbook, Range of Motion, in January 2014. She holds a Ph.D. in English from the University of Louisiana Lafayette and an MFA in fiction from Sarah Lawrence College.

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Mary McMyne’s “Wolfskin”

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This selection is from Mary McMyne’s chapbook, Wolf Skin.

Wolfskin

“A huntsman was just passing by. He thought it strange that the old woman
was snoring so loudly, so he decided to take a look.”

 —Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm (tr. Ashliman)

 

Inside, the shadows shape a riddle, a story. The half-burnt candle in the kitchen,
the unwashed dishes. The cloth-covered basket by the door. From the hook on the wall,
neatly hung, the red ripple of fabric. The crackling fire. The light flickering in the hall.
In the bedroom someone is sleeping. At the foot of the bed, two well-worn slippers.
On the side table, one book. One pair of spectacles.
Night fills the room like cradlesong.

 

There it is again, that strange buzzing sound. There it is again, from the bed. Such
a little old woman could not make this noise. When the log falls into the fire, and
the light hits the shape under the blankets, when the log falls into the fire, and
you see the claw dragging the floor, you have already begun to rush at the bed
with your scissors, you have already resolved to slit the beast open, the word hero
stinging your tongue –

 

In the story you tell your friends, you’ll say you took home the wolf skin as a trophy.
You’ll say the old woman thanked you, and the girl went on about how frightened
she was. But the truth is the girl spoke only three words that day: Who are you?
The truth is the grandmother only whispered, white with shock, as she drank the wine:
We were dead. It was dark when you left the grandmother’s house, and cold.
When you tried on the wolf skin, the stars laughed. Dead leaves crackled
under your feet like fire.

—

This selection is from Mary McMyne’s chapbook, Wolf Skin, available from dancing girl press! Purchase your copy here!

Mary McMyne is the author of Wolf Skin, a chapbook (dancing girl press, 2014). She grew up in south Louisiana, studying English and creative writing at Louisiana State University before moving to the east coast to study fiction. Since earning her MFA from New York University, her poems and stories have appeared in Word Riot, Pedestal Magazine, Painted Bride Quarterly, Los Angeles Review, New Delta Review, and many other publications. Her criticism has appeared in American Book Review. Her poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and the Rhysling Award, and her fiction has won the Faulkner Prize for a Novel-in-Progress and a Sustainable Arts Foundation Promise Award. Since 2011, she has lived in Sault Sainte Marie, Michigan, where she is co-editor of the journal Border Crossing and an assistant professor at Lake Superior State University. Learn more at marymcmyne.com.

Meagan Cass is an Assistant Professor of English at the University of Illinois Springfield, where she teaches courses in creative writing, independent publishing, and composition, curates the Shelterbelt reading series, and advises the campus literary journal, the Alchemist Review. Her fiction has appeared in Hayden’s Ferry Review, The Pinch, Hobart Web, PANK, and Puerto del Sol, among other journals. Magic Helicopter Press will publish her first fiction chapbook, Range of Motion, in January 2014. She holds a Ph.D. in English from the University of Louisiana Lafayette and an MFA in fiction from Sarah Lawrence College.

 

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Leah Browning’s “Early Morning”

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EARLY MORNING

The woman emerged from the forest
behind the house, as if she’d become lost

in an intricate dream, or a fairy tale:
as if she’d been wandering in the wood

for so long that her hair had turned gray
and her clothes were worn to rags.

It was one of those cool, gray mornings
where the mist clings to the treetops,

and one of the stories in the newspaper
was about a mysterious shower of apples

falling from the sky over a small British town,
and any otherworldly thing seemed possible.

I was sitting on the back porch with a cup
of hot coffee in my hand, steam rising

in the cold air, and I watched as if in a dream
as the woman slowly grew closer.

Her hair, fine as cobwebs, was pulled up
in a knot at the back of her head,

and the pale fabric of her nightgown
dragged behind her in the thick grass.

I set my cup on the table and rose.
It would take only a moment

to walk down the wooden steps
and cross the grass to meet her,

to stand close enough to see her face,
deeply lined, still soft from sleep.

I already knew that she would
mistakenly call me by her daughter’s name,

and I would take her inside for a blanket
and a cup of hot tea, and together,

we would sit near a bowl full of roses
and look through the phone book

for the familiar number
that she could no longer recall.

But for as long as I walked down
the wooden steps and crossed the thick grass

she was still wandering out of the forest,
in search of elusive words of advice or a magic ring,

or the single kiss that would turn back time
and break the spell.

 

This selection is from Leah Browning’s chapbook, In the Chair Museum, available from dancing girl press. Purchase your copy here!

Leah Browning is the author of three nonfiction books for teens and pre-teens and three chapbooks.  Her most recent chapbook, In the Chair Museum, was published by Dancing Girl Press in 2013.  Browning’s fiction, poetry, essays, and articles have previously appeared in publications including Queen’s Quarterly, Queen’s Feminist Review, 42opus, The Saint Ann’s Review, Blood Orange Review, 300 Days of Sun, Corium Magazine, Heron Tree, The Citron Review, Halfway Down the Stairs, Sweet: A Literary Confection, Dressing Room Poetry Journal, and Per Contra, as well as on a broadside from Broadsided Press, on postcards from the program Poetry Jumps Off the Shelf, and in several anthologies.  Her fourth chapbook, Out of Body, is forthcoming from Dancing Girl Press.  In addition to writing, Browning serves as editor of the Apple Valley Review.  Her personal website is located at www.leahbrowning.com.

 

Erin Elizabeth Smith is the Creative Director at the Sundress Academy for the Arts and the author of two full-length collections, The Fear of Being Found (Three Candles Press 2008) and The Naming of Strays (Gold Wake Press 2011). Her poems have appeared in numerous journals, including Mid-American, 32 Poems, Zone 3, Gargoyle, Tusculum Review, and Crab Orchard Review. She teaches a bit of everything in the English Department at the University of Tennessee and serves as the managing editor of Sundress Publications and Stirring.

THE WARDROBE’S BEST DRESSED: LEAH BROWNING’S “ALMOST A YEAR AFTER HIS SUICIDE”

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Almost a Year After His Suicide
 
After a glass of wine, it no longer seems possible
that he’s dead. You weren’t close, toward the end
of his life, and it’s been months since he has floated
into your thoughts, unbidden, out of the blue. 

Now, sitting on the back porch,
you can remember every line
of his last letter. He had sounded at peace
then, just a few short weeks before. 

The wisteria is in bloom, with its thick,
fragrant bunches of lavender flowers,
and the lemon tree is heavy with fruit.
At sunset, the dead seem close by, 

present, lingering in your peripheral vision.
And for a moment, in the golden light,
this has to be heaven, because how could anyone
truly be dead, here amidst so much beauty?

 

This selection is from Leah Browning’s chapbook, In the Chair Museum, available from dancing girl press. Purchase your copy here!

Leah Browning is the author of three nonfiction books for teens and pre-teens (Capstone Press) and three chapbooks: In the Chair Museum (Dancing Girl 2013),  Picking Cherries in the Española Valley (Dancing Girl Press, 2010) and Making Love to the Same Man for Fifteen Years (Big Table Publishing, 2009).  Browning’s fiction, poetry, essays, and articles have previously appeared in a variety of publications, including Queen’s Quarterly, Queen’s Feminist Review, 42opus, The Saint Ann’s Review, Blood Orange Review, Tipton Poetry Journal, Brink Magazine, Halfway Down the Stairs, Sweet: A Literary Confection, and Per Contra, as well as on a broadside from Broadsided Press, on postcards from the program Poetry Jumps Off the Shelf, and in several anthologies.  In addition to writing, Browning serves as editor of the Apple Valley Review.  Her personal website is located at www.leahbrowning.com.

 

Erin Elizabeth Smith is the Creative Director at the Sundress Academy for the Arts and the author of two full-length collections, The Fear of Being Found (Three Candles Press 2008) and The Naming of Strays (Gold Wake Press 2011). Her poems have appeared in numerous journals, including Mid-American, 32 Poems, Zone 3, Gargoyle, Tusculum Review, and Crab Orchard Review. She teaches a bit of everything in the English Department at the University of Tennessee and serves as the managing editor of Sundress Publications and Stirring.

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Leah Browning’s “In the Chair Museum”

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IN THE CHAIR MUSEUM

On Christmas Day, we drove north
to spend the afternoon with friends.

I was homesick for New Mexico
and brought biscochitos in the shape of stars.

We all walked to Montara State Beach
where it was cold and windy and beautiful

and watched the sun set like a piece of golden glass
over the ocean. I couldn’t believe it was truly

December. On the way back to the house
I held his little mitten in my gloved hand.

He was getting older and it felt like the last time
this might happen, like I needed to remember it.

We took the longest route and stopped to look
at strings of Christmas lights in the front yards.

By the time we returned, the men had built
a fire in a metal bowl on the back porch.

Later, after dinner, I looked through a book
with one of the boys, a very thick book about chairs.

He sat close to me on the couch and I wanted time
to stop for a moment so we could go on forever

turning page after page of glossy color photographs
of all the different colors and types of chairs.

Christmas ended, and New Year’s. The book dissolved,
all of it did, as though it had never happened.

A few months later, I dreamed that I was a doll,
walking on my little legs through the chair museum.

Next door was the table museum, and on the other side
of it was the spoon museum, and so on. You get the idea.

The chairs in my museum were very large,
and I felt so small as I walked between them.

I wasn’t sure why I was there, or what I was supposed to be
learning, but I knew that I had to be there for a reason.

So all night, I walked around in my little stockings and
my little black felt slippers with the straps across the tops.

All night, I walked around and around the museum,
peeking up at chairs through my little glass eyes,

certain that all of the answers were right there in front of me
if only I knew where to look.

 

This selection is from Leah Browning’s chapbook, In the Chair Museum, available from dancing girl press. Purchase your copy here!

Leah Browning is the author of three nonfiction books for teens and pre-teens (Capstone Press) and three chapbooks: In the Chair Museum (Dancing Girl 2013),  Picking Cherries in the Española Valley (Dancing Girl Press, 2010) and Making Love to the Same Man for Fifteen Years (Big Table Publishing, 2009).  Browning’s fiction, poetry, essays, and articles have previously appeared in a variety of publications, including Queen’s Quarterly, Queen’s Feminist Review, 42opus, The Saint Ann’s Review, Blood Orange Review, Tipton Poetry Journal, Brink Magazine, Halfway Down the Stairs, Sweet: A Literary Confection, and Per Contra, as well as on a broadside from Broadsided Press, on postcards from the program Poetry Jumps Off the Shelf, and in several anthologies.  In addition to writing, Browning serves as editor of the Apple Valley Review.  Her personal website is located at www.leahbrowning.com.

 

Erin Elizabeth Smith is the Creative Director at the Sundress Academy for the Arts and the author of two full-length collections, The Fear of Being Found (Three Candles Press 2008) and The Naming of Strays (Gold Wake Press 2011). Her poems have appeared in numerous journals, including Mid-American, 32 Poems, Zone 3, Gargoyle, Tusculum Review, and Crab Orchard Review. She teaches a bit of everything in the English Department at the University of Tennessee and serves as the managing editor of Sundress Publications and Stirring.

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Leah Browning’s “The Night He Broke His Collarbone”

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THE NIGHT HE BROKE HIS COLLARBONE

The diaper commercials never show
all the waiting:

the outer room at the dentist or
the living room when he’s out late or

at his bedside, in the emergency room,
waiting to take the X-rays or hear the results.

Or now, standing outside in the driveway
in the dark, waiting for the ambulance.

My son is sitting in the front
passenger seat of my car,

trying not to move too much
or cry or throw up, and

I stand in the wedge of light
from the car’s open door.

Earlier tonight, when the sun was still low,
he hit a bump on the BMX track

and slammed into the ground
shoulder-first. He is not quite thirteen.

His friend had to borrow a cell phone
to call his father and ask him to drive over

and pick them up in his SUV.
At the time, it didn’t seem so serious.

The neighbors have come outside,
one already in her nightdress and robe,

wringing her hands. There is nothing left
to say. Mostly, it is quiet. Other cars drive past,

and at the end of the street, a city bus stops
to collect its passengers before grinding away again.

One night, on a school trip, there was an accident—
but it was twenty years ago and all I remember now

is filing off a bus in the dark, and seeing
a teenage boy laid out on his back

in a parking lot, in some unfamiliar state—
in another lifetime, it seems now.

But it is all called back by the faint sound of the siren
rising from the bottom of the hill,

eliciting a familiar sense of relief. The ambulance
pulls to a stop in front of us, and the back doors are opened

to reveal its inner workings: the raised white cot,
the long gray bench, a series of cupboards, and then

the confident, efficient machine of the paramedics
emerging with their clipboards and backboard

and gloves and stethoscope,
and the pair of silver scissors they’ll use

to cut his shirt off his body, deftly,
like magicians performing a deceptively complex trick,

and in that moment I almost expect to see rising smoke
and a flurry of milk-white doves

as they set aside the glittering mirror of the scissors
and whisk back the colored cloth.

 

“The Night He Broke His Collarbone” is from Leah Browning’s chapbook, In the Chair Museum, available from dancing girl press. Purchase your copy here!

Leah Browning is the author of three nonfiction books for teens and pre-teens (Capstone Press) and three chapbooks: In the Chair Museum (Dancing Girl 2013),  Picking Cherries in the Española Valley (Dancing Girl Press, 2010) and Making Love to the Same Man for Fifteen Years (Big Table Publishing, 2009).  Browning’s fiction, poetry, essays, and articles have previously appeared in a variety of publications, including Queen’s Quarterly, Queen’s Feminist Review, 42opus, The Saint Ann’s Review, Blood Orange Review, Tipton Poetry Journal, Brink Magazine, Halfway Down the Stairs, Sweet: A Literary Confection, and Per Contra, as well as on a broadside from Broadsided Press, on postcards from the program Poetry Jumps Off the Shelf, and in several anthologies.  In addition to writing, Browning serves as editor of the Apple Valley Review.  Her personal website is located at www.leahbrowning.com.

 

Erin Elizabeth Smith is the Creative Director at the Sundress Academy for the Arts and the author of two full-length collections, The Fear of Being Found (Three Candles Press 2008) and The Naming of Strays (Gold Wake Press 2011). Her poems have appeared in numerous journals, including Mid-American, 32 Poems, Zone 3, Gargoyle, Tusculum Review, and Crab Orchard Review. She teaches a bit of everything in the English Department at the University of Tennessee and serves as the managing editor of Sundress Publications and Stirring.