Postcard proseIssue 17 | March 2013

Post Office Bay

by Jenny Williams

In Post Office Bay, the winds circle and never land. The sea brings sand to shore, and takes it away again.

You asked me to tell you the origin of faith: Once, ships lay anchor in this sheltered cove, and sailors brought letters to a barrel placed past the mark of highest tide. There they left their letters and picked up others whose destinations matched their own, knowing each had been left by a man with a message, hoping another man would take their letters home in a month, or a year.

And so they did, and carried them on; and the ships carried the sailors, and the currents carried the ships, and none truly knew the value of their cargo.

About the author

Jenny Williams originally hails from California, and her travels have taken her across Africa, Asia, and Central America. She currently lives in Marburg, Germany with her dog; subsequently, her journeys mostly involve the local forest and a Frisbee. Her work has appeared in The Best Women’s Travel Writing, Matador Travel, Pology, and The Sun Magazine, among many others. She is the current director of the Glimpse Graduate Program at MatadorU. Visit her here.

Read our current issue:

Poetry

Two poems by Anne Babson
Vignette, Townhouse, 9 a.m. by Troy Cunio
Night Becomes Day Over the West by Megan Foley
Yukon River Aurora by D. B. Goman
Two Poems by David Havird
Cretan Love Letter by Emily Linstrom
Holland by Rick Mullin
Fear in Kenya by Kristina Pfleegor
The Lounge Lizard by Ed Shacklee
Two Poems by Sarah J. Sloat
Night Flight by Vicki Stannard
Koinonia Farms by Alina Stefanescu
Thessaloniki, Four a.m. by Anastasia Vassos
Imaginary Oceans by Jason Warren
Two Poems by F. J. Williams

Postcard prose

It’s Salty by Kelly Hill

Travel notes

Anchorage in the Great Land by Karen Benning
The Value of Small Money by Megan Hallinan
Screensaver by Sandra Larson
Thirty Cents by Tommy McAree
Gokarna by Kate McCahill
Going Places by Rachel Miller-Howard
Susanville CA: Notes From The Road by Susan Volchok