J. Bradley is the author of Dodging Traffic (Ampersand Books, 2009) and the flash
fiction chapbook The Serial Rapist Sitting Behind You is a Robot (Safety Third
Enterprises, 2010). He is the Interviews Editor at PANK Magazine and lives at

The Astrology of Literary Fiction

There is fresh snow.
There are test results,

A television flickers,
antenna ears crane
for a clear signal;
the empty couch cushion
demarcates you and her.

There are leaves, falling.
There is a hospital room,

A drink curdles
in a tumbler. You hurt
from dodging questions.

There is a melting
vanilla ice cream cone,
no small fingers to ruin.

Detergents, a realtor
swallow memories.

Snow thaws. Grass
flattens. You do not
give her seed.

Yale Street

When we traded electric currents through the tip of our noses, revenge evaporated from my body. I clutched your hip like the handle of a hammer, a box of nails; you are a home worth building.

Foster Home

There are days the when's molt
and the if's stand over the skin,
where each child I was to have
slides down the rusting chutes
of my arms without photography
to catch them.


We call my forearm pressed
against your throat kindling.

A slaughter, the chalkboard
of my back erased of all safety.

The woods, your hair,
my hands.

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