Kate Falvey

For once, I’d like to knowjust what that woman didto be chased by fangs anddevils, skulls and whips andscorn. Sometimes there are men,sometimes knife-edged teeth andleers, sometimes claws and howlsthat thrust the skin of waiting breathaside. She is in snow. In flame. In frotheddemented seas. Backed into crags onmountainy landContinue Reading

I. The raccoonwas early,before the crowded treesheld only warblersand the nattering of squirrelspummeled the lake in glancingdives, giving the grebes what for. Thenthere were still tanagers, voicingtheir globed remote golds when slywinds smoothed back the beech leavesand the squirrels were less feckless,cobbing their cones of pine in silentcovertness, near stumpsContinue Reading

The great silverbackpresses his haunches to the glass,unfazed, chewing,the amazed faces of childrena natural part of his terrain. The children line the belledviewing spacelike a chattering fringeof tropical primate.They are easily reverent,nudging, elbowingonly to alerttheir fellows toa fascinating monkclimbing the realcrenelated trunksor combing real mitesfrom a crony’scoarse coat. All adultsContinue Reading

Shove over, Dinah, and get your whiskersout of my tea. There’s not enough creamat this picnic for the two of us and I have dibs on the scones. Or maybe the scones are etherealand multiply, loaf-and-fish-like, and will serveme, you, and visions, too, if that rabbit flickers by, fob a-glinting.Continue Reading

I. Forest Blues The grab of trees is nothing.I’m hip to their enchantments,their impenetrable leavings; they oughtto be less obvious when calling the windsfor a ride. Their branches out them every time.There is always one struggling to smother a laugh,always a pair curving like arms, always a skeletalbeckoning, a threatContinue Reading