In “The Magic City,” Andrew Spear documents summer life in Glouster, Ohio. Our art editor, Suzannah Showler, interviews him about the Appalachian town that let him in.
When the granaries go, they send up a flood of light so intense we wear sunglasses indoors all morning. We draw the curtains and look for blindfolds while brightness spears up from the ground like fencing foils. The whole horizon is brittle with light.
After lunch, we go up to the rooftop and squint out at the city, at the hard lines of light still rising from the skyline like clock hands.
“That’s ten,” Sister Mary Gloria says. “Eleven if you count the dockyards, which I do.”…
When my mother sees my heart in arrhythmia, she says it looks as though a butterfly is stuck in my chest, fluttering my skin. “I can see it moving,” she says. I am in high school. It feels too zippy to be a butterfly, so as I lie in bed at home, waiting for the bad rhythm to break, I picture a hummingbird caged in my ribs, buzzing from valve to valve.
“Scram,” I say. “Vamoose. Bird begone.”
Eventually it does. But it takes its sweet-ass time. And it’s only a matter of time before its return. It’s building a nest in there.…
A man drew a map of the earth
and showed me how mountains are made:
fold and thrust, how plates collide
until one overtakes the other. He taught me
the long process of being subsumed.
When all I asked for
was to return to a time before there were words
for the types of weather.
To wake up in a different bed
under a different sky and not think Tornado Season.…
Our current issue features work from: Sarah Crossland, John Paul Davis, Gabrielle Hovendon, Andrew Spear, Corey Van Landingham and many more.
The 2015 judge for the Charles B. Wheeler Prize for Poetry is Marcus Jackson. Submissions for the Wheeler Prize will open September 1st. For more information, please visit the Wheeler Prize page.