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Eszter Marosszeky and David Matheson

It whispered a promise of great wealth, and I was listening.

There is a pure fear, in waking somewhere you have not lain down. She runs until her blisters bleed. Then, she runs some more.

Let us not forget the desuetude of nailed-shut carousels.

Cold metal stands upon my brow; Spiders seek my heart.

He got his wife off a German farmer, for whom he went to work one day.

Lambert started to cry and said he was sure there was a God.

Mikey said the hole wouldn’t lead to China, but he was frequently wrong.

I don’t remember a time when I didn’t know my father’s grief.

Yes, the race of children possesses magically sagacious powers!

Home, I thought. This was the new country I had been yearning for.

How, like a dream, all the world’s characters are aspects of me.

You locate the green outline of the state your cousins are inside of now.

The thing that illuminated him might have been guilt or outright lust.

He took off his clothes and left them on the living room floor.

She heard the lowing of cattle, shouting, the crack of whips.

I pictured myself as a chart inside her head. Two sides: good and bad.

My door overlooks a jade stream, the stillness of dawn drives cares away.

No one could prove it, but we were sure the neighbor shot the horse.

Having his ex-wife in the house was a distraction. He forgot to grieve.

Clayton always imagined getting laid in the rooms of his dad’s motel.

I know about sex. It’s not a cardinal flying into the wrong window.

The jealous Othello, ready for murder, was transformed into a school-boy.

I’m going to save up against the flood and stagger to carry nothing.

There was only the gulf of our steps, our breathing brittle as string.

I lie down and see you one bed over; therefore God exists.

Our father crumbled after her affair. We watched him for signs of cracking.

What right had Flora, of all people, to pronounce on what was strange?

If I bring the wrong pen the words look like snow piles on an empty page.