Month: October 2016

The Invisibility of Wealth

  Sylvain, a man of thirty, sat at the table drinking coffee. He scrutinized the tables surrounding him on the patio, moving his focus methodically from one to the other. Several tables away, two men sitting across from one another were handed menus. One took a glance at his before he placed it down on the table and excused himself. The other continued perusing his. Sylvain got up, walked in the direction of the table and toward a door leading inside the restaurant. As he passed the table he brushed against it slightly, removing the cell phone lying next...

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Hag-Seed by Margaret Atwood

  The fourth in the Hogarth Shakespeare Series turned out to be the best one so far. A retelling of the oft performed and retold The Tempest, this one is laid out like an intricate puzzle and seeing the pieces come together while reading it was pure enjoyment. It is another example of the brilliance that underlies all of Margaret Atwood’s writing. For someone who has difficulty reading Shakespeare’s plays, Hag-Seed did me the favor of decoding the many layers of The Tempest. Her main character for the modern day version, Felix Philip, is the former Artistic Director of...

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How We Die

    I’m lying awake at night, again. My breaths are short; my diaphragm seems to have been lassoed in a familiar way. I dread to look at the alarm clock for the fifteenth time in thirty minutes. Those bars of orange that continue to laugh in my face, or maybe they’re red? I can’t stop paying attention to my heartbeat. It’s a constant reminder that my life is dependent upon something I have absolutely no control over. It thuds so tumultuously; I can feel the blood pulsing through every limb. I look around my room, thinking of something...

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A Worn Mattress

  What care you where he seeks to lay his head Only the imprint of a man remains Restrained, restricted, weighted down with chains In that space alongside you on the bed; At least he is living that once was dead His few losses are far offset by gains For he no longer feels those longing pains Rejoicing to be more alive than dead. Why enquire after this refugee Why speak his name or seek his attention Why conjure his image from memory He cares not about your situation And he wishes he had never reclined On the worn...

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  Declan planned to have a nervous breakdown. He had studied the DSM-IV and ICD-10 and knew that there was no formal definition for a nervous breakdown or a mental breakdown, but the terms were synonymous. Some ideas struck like lightening. Other ideas took time to construct: they built like skyscrapers in your thoughts and cast long shadows.   Randy at the restaurant had brown teeth stained from tobacco. He said, “Five years of university and you’re mopping floors.” Declan didn’t respond because it wasn’t funny. He had been helping Randy learn English for the past three years and...

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