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..:: CONTENTS ::..
   Volume VI, Issue II

..:: POETRY ::..


..:: PROSE ::..

..:: ETC ::..
   Contributor's Notes

..:: ARCHIVES ::..
   Volume I, Issue I
   Volume I, Issue II
   Volume II, Issue I
   Volume II, Issue II
   Volume III, Issue I
   Volume III, Issue II
   Volume IV, Issue I
    Volume IV, Issue II
   Volume V, Issue I
    Volume V, Issue II
    Volume VI, Issue I

 
Poetry


The Yellow Pencil
Howie Good

     

No matter how loud I shout, my voice doesn’t carry. Only in old movies do the lovers escape on an ice floe. The night supervisor, his face curiously flushed, whispers something I can’t hear to the new girl working the line in the family pencil factory. Later, the worn rubber nub of a no. 2 pencil erases what has just been written.

 

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