John Duncan Talbird ’s fiction is forthcoming or has appeared in Ploughshares, South Carolina Review, Literary Imagination, Grain and descant, among others. An English professor at Queensborough Community College, he has held writing residencies at the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts and the Lower Manhattan Cultural Council. He is on the editorial board of Green Hills Literary Lantern and a frequent contributor to Quarterly Review of Film and Video. He lives in Brooklyn.In Issue 2:
Sublimation and Fontanel
an excerpt from Sublimation
Nowadays, when you come in the door from work, your eyes flicker down, lips twitching as if they’d like to smile but have forgotten how. Often, as I go out the back door to dig in the garden, I’ll wonder what it was we were always laughing at. Kneeling to embrace earth, fingers sinking in black soil, I’ll imagine the thick, round tomatoes that will appear in the spring, the dark zucchinis, bell peppers swollen with seeds and almost too heavy for their branches.
Sometimes, your stubborn coldness makes me so angry I could kill you. Instead, I’m growing things.