Nancy Tupper Ling and Eric Pinder

I Tell the Truth
Nancy Tupper Ling (2006-2007 Parnell Prize Winner)

a good mother wanted
her children to denounce her,
her Kuomintang ties,
her rightest secrets:

how she tucked dried plums
into her daughters’ pockets
when other children
went without,

how she stitched the Golden
Gate to her pillowcase,
Slept on its strong, burnished
beams and dreamed

of her sisters, their shoebox
houses tucked into America’s
hillsides. Gwo laih.
They call to her. Come over.

This was the only way.
If her children pounded
their fists, waved their red
flags, saluted the Chairman

as he passed by, the party
pledged honor to them.
At what cost? A tiny mother
in rice paddies: her feet,

swollen and muddied,
her prayer—may they forget
the words, their words,
which brought me here.


Signs of the Times
Eric Pinder

Imagine my surprise when I pushed the playback button on my home answering machine and heard a familiar voice: “Hello, this is George W. Bush...” Beep. That was the only message. Oddly, the President forgot to leave a number where I could call him back. more

R. Elena Prieto and Laura Esther Wolfson

Grandparents’ House, Venezuela
R. Elena Prieto

I remember the slow juicing
of oranges, her turning wrist,
blue and white napkins with birds
on the table. Pájaros still sounds
like flight to me, the pulse of air
snapping beneath scarlet and green wings,
nectarized bird song. Pio pios
in the chicken yard. My early
memories are hothouse flashes of color
glazed with the musk of warm rain,
tortoises and their slow crawl
in the backyard. Every morning
fresh orange juice, every afternoon
a push on the swing, a nap in a small bed
that blanketed me with dusty
breaths of cedar, lavender.


He Picked Me Up; Then He Picked Me Up Again
Laura Esther Wolfson

I had set aside that weekend for a one-night stand. I would be done with my grueling, six-week French course at McGill. It would be my last weekend in Montreal before going back to life in New York. I had been unable to meet anyone unless I was out of town. This would be my last opportunity for a while. more

Kevin McIntosh

At the Zoo
Kevin McIntosh

"No, no Meggie. Put it down. That's not to touch." How could there be so many cigarette butts at a children's zoo? What were people thinking?
"Pin-guins, Daddy. Want to see pin-guins."
"Okay, sweetie.” He swirled her into his arms and brushed back the blond curls that were matted to her forehead. The late-June humidity glued her to his side. Jesus, what heat. more