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The clock in the hall marks each drowsing hour, and the housecat keeps watch. Tucked under a warm blanket and pastel sheets, I sleep and dream. In the morning, there’s coffee and quiet conversation, here with my family that isn’t blood but family the same. We’ll sit on the porchContinue Reading

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“My little angel.” It was what my mama called me since before I could remember. She said that I was the most beautiful child to ever exist–her “gift from god.” According to her, when I was born the nurses couldn’t look away. They said that I was the most beautifulContinue Reading

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Jack and I followed the creek for half an hour. Once in a while we peered past the clumps of bushes and trees along the embankment, frustrated that we could still catch glimpses of picnic tables or awnings or trailers, the glint of trucks or cars or bikes. Soon, weContinue Reading

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Rules of the game, Pray thee know, Are many in the beginning And few when you go. Take up thy May flowers And scatter them wide For your funeral is coming After you’ve died. And those who come to pay the last goodbye with sorrow in their hearts and tearsContinue Reading

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Roger Camp is the author of three photography books including the award winning Butterflies in Flight, Thames & Hudson, 2002 and Heat, Charta, Milano, 2008. His work has appeared in numerous journals including The New England Review, Phoebe, Folio and the New York Quarterly. His work is represented by theContinue Reading

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Yesterday afternoon The Fly followed me through my doorflying in with the wind because the wind flows with theconfidence of one who knows where to goI, too, follow the wind when I crave an adventurebut The Fly couldn’t have known that my homehas no treasure near, only disarray and disasterContinue Reading

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When bees are born, we’re told we have a singular purpose: to serve the colony. Worker or drone, our job is to make sure the future of the colony is secure. In plain terms, we exist to support the queen. And if she ever stops doing what her singular purposeContinue Reading

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“Do you ever feel restless?” Asked the worker of a drone. “Long to live beyond the structuresThe hexagons of honeycombs? Ever feel we’re something more Than antenna twitches And wing flicks And buzzing bands of yellow In vast washes of green Under distant blankets of blue? Away from the queenApartContinue Reading

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Estranged from my family, I was surprised at the call.“Master Anders?” said the voice. There was a distinct buzzing, what might have been electrical interference or perhaps–“Yes? Yes? Hello,” I said. “Yes. This is Anders. Hello?”The voice on the line began a coughing fit. He had covered the receiver withContinue Reading