What I wanted to say to my brother the dial tone was already tenderly humming, so I lay the phone down without placing a number. I might have lullabied it to my bride instead, but she was listening to her pillow so intently that she’d closed her patient eyes. The blackened television beat […]
No more books or music for tonight, and nothing new on cable, nothing to clean or cook or suffer through. Just sighs between the minutes as this white typhoon of moonlight tries to shake the room and all that’s right within it. The clock face wears a sheen of […]
George David Clark was born in Savannah and raised in Chattanooga and Little Rock. He now lives in Washington, PA with his wife, Elisabeth, and their four young children. The author of Reveille (winner of the 2015 Miller Williams Poetry Prize from the University of Arkansas Press), David’s recent poems can be found or are […]
He is holding this grenade he’s found in the clammy fog of five am and he’s pulled the pin somehow on accident. To let it go will spring the lever. That, or he’s clasping an ornate doorknob, warm from fire in the room beyond, and he can’t decide if he should enter. Doing so might […]