Love, Departed

Emily Devane Writer’s Note: This piece started with a voice, and a feeling: I am looking for the key to the drawer with nothing in it. I heard that voice in my head and I knew that the person saying those words is unravelling. When I wrote this, I had in mind The Yellow Wallpaper […]

She Remembers it Like This

Emily Devane               Always, the sun shines and the black telephone dangles from its cloister wall like a stricken beetle.               Always, the skipping rope circles and the dust rises and the Pujarnol air is thick.               And always, Ruby sits on a tree stump, watching the girls. The younger ones play a skipping game. […]

River Mother

Emily Devane This river is a careless mother. She sets out with good intentions, singing The Hills Are Alive at the top of her bubbling, babbling voice. She tickles our feet as we play, pulls and tugs while we throw sticks from bridges, begs us to dance the time-step on summer evenings. When our feet […]