Siegfried Mortkowitz
But I didn’t want to give it to them, I didn’t want to do it for them, for their Holocaust. I wanted the polar opposite of the Holocaust, the antidote to blood and ashes, loss and suffering: love and pleasure. I wanted to live my life, not theirs.
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Petr Hruska
The door always used to swing shut, by itself, for years and years, with measured haste. / Now it stands utterly still.
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Dorota Maslowska
Days that she’d taken for lost, days when she’d felt like air that was slightly thicker and English-speaking, it must have been then that someone had been watching her the
whole time, following her, dazzled by her existence, going crazy over her and . . .
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The Prose Poem Issue
Throughout the month of June, B O D Y presented a daily selection of prose poems, as well as essays and reviews, from our contributors as part of a special “Prose Poem Issue.”
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Michelle Penn
You tell yourself you’re immune, always, but then D appears, if not exactly out of the shadows then like a river of milk flooding the kitchen.
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