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Billy was a good Christian as he walked to school. Billy had been a good Christian all weekend and for the last four years since his mom let him get baptized at the tender age of 7. He was glad to have direction in his life and he carried God’sContinue Reading

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The night of a storm, a duck banged into the window. That’s Quackers, my daughter said. Rain fell onto the window. Branches tapped the walls. I came to the window. There was the duck in the mud on its back. It did not move like a duck, but like meatContinue Reading

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the sky was there  distorted at the edges   but there  clear crystal blue     his wings burned  his mind locked  he battled the Plexiglas sky    over and again   his head bumped  hoping   for an improbable escape    I was afraid  his death   would stainContinue Reading

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The Deer I They would fire on three.  Red leaves, yellow leaves, green leaves. The shot—like the birth of his son. The leaves.  The animal. The son cowered in the bushes.  The father took the son’s gun and counted. One through six bullets. The son had not fired the gun. Continue Reading

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Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review as well as other publications.Continue Reading

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Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review as well as other publications.Continue Reading

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Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review as well as other publications.Continue Reading

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The Temp, something I did not ask for, is here. Like most humans, It’s tall and lumbering, and oh Bast, It’s speaking in kitten-talk already. One of my roommates, a young kitten my human roommates call “Lucy” (whom I have yet to give my blessing to), is already performing forContinue Reading

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In hindsight, this was probably not the best place for a teachable moment about death with my eleven-year-old. The whole thing had been Abby’s idea in the first place. “I can’t let her go,” she had said. “Please dad.” Osiris was our thirteen-year-old ragdoll cat my wife Olivia adopted rightContinue Reading

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I cannot stand your velvet cloak that holds the dark in. Unprepared, I stayed   with you until the wind spoke of mothers and I remembered my own smell. Every day I checked the solidness   of skin, the speed of blood, the shape of eyes against the rain. IContinue Reading