The Boulevard: Issue #13

Issue #13 of The Boulevard

Winter Hawthorne Fellows

Edited by Jennifer Lauck

 
 
by Audrey Van Buskirk
 

11 nearly naked elderly people sat along the room’s edges. Six on one side, five on the other, they didn’t directly face one another; each sat in a wooden, high-backed chair. In plain underwear and thin towels, they might have been waiting for medical treatment. But these people, with their loose skin, mottled spots, slack muscles, and awkward lumps, were the attraction. Their tattoos were the display.

 
 
 
 
 
 
You Put Something in My Water By Courtney Pierce
 
My parents never locked their front door during the day. I rang the bell, insulted as hell. Beyond the etched vines and prisms in the glass, Mom rippled to the door. Fake exuberance and a too-desperate hug greeted me. She whispered in my ear, "Christina's here." Mom turned and called out to the den, “She made it! Courtney's here!”
 
 
 
 
 

 

Robust Roast By Heide Island

“Now you try the coffee,” he says “Pick your favorite: American, French or Italian.”

We all stand, like eight Goldilocks before the three coffee presses of mild, medium, and robust roast.  John pours a cup from each pitcher, setting the cups in front of their respective press. 

“Try” he urges “All of them.”

 

 

 

Easter Weed by Bill Pence

We returned home with a brown bottle of Marinol pills and a giddy optimism. A favorite topic of conversation among prisoners of war is home cooking.  It's the same for cancer survivors. Molly yearned to feel an appetite, to savor a bite, to digest a meal without nausea.

 

 

 

 

Pecorino in My Pocket by Diana Grappasonno

Like puzzle pieces, my mom’s martyrdom perfectly complemented my dad’s selfishness. This was pretty standard amongst long-married couples back then. The great part about being the martyr is that you will be remembered fondly for your sacrifices and it makes you feel superior, which is not a bad feeling to have. And the great part about being selfish is that you get to do lots of fun things.

A Statement of Our Values

The Attic Institute of Arts and Letters opposes the legitimation of bigotry, hate, and misinformation. As a studio for writers, we do not tolerate harassment or discrimination of any kind. We embrace and celebrate our shared pursuit of literature and languages as essential to crossing the boundaries of difference. To that end, we seek to maintain a creative environment in which every employee, faculty member, and student feels safe, respected, and comfortable — even while acknowledging that poems, stories, and essays delve into uncomfortable subjects. We accept the workshop as a place to question ourselves and to empathize with complex identities. We understand that to know the world is to write the world. Therefore, we reaffirm our commitment to literary pursuits and shared understanding by affirming diversity and open inquiry.