T H R E E   P R O S E   P O E M S   [ 1 ]   [ 2 ]   [ 3 ] O Y S T E R   B O Y   R E V I E W   [ 6 ]

Languages

Terry Spohn


Light puddled on leaves, late September, the little girls' dresses too short and no one's cold yet at night: you wait before sunset for someone who never shows up. Just when you do you pack it in? Every day you stand out there next to the sidewalk where the shortcuts are worn flat and the traffic is loud and dangerous. Sunset comes on earlier. In the kitchens along Prospect Street the lights are going on, water is running. Soon the smells. What is it, you wonder, that smell? What are these people eating? They are your neighbors. When you sleep they sleep next to you, just a wall away. The long shadows come down toward you. No one arrives. Neighbors are sitting down together, pushing their black hair away from their faces, speaking their languages, their secrets like the spokes of a wheel spinning around you.


OYSTER BOY REVIEW 6

Editor's Note
Contributors to this Issue

Oyster Boy Review

POETRY

Pete Lee
Terry Spohn
Judith Chatowsky
Lyn Lifshin
Michael Estabrook
Timothy Call

FICTION

Thomas Rain Crowe
Pamela M. Patton
Michael McNeilley
Lucy Harrison
Christy Sanford

REVIEWS

Chad Driscoll
Steve Kistulentz