Postcard prose - Issue 13 | September 2011

One Night on Lake Bled

by Sonya Bilocerkowycz

You ice-skate beef bits about the frying pan with a tin fork. I sit and hope to taste the lardy smell.

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Avignonnaïse

by Samantha Hall

People title themselves in Avignon.  Where you are from is of the upmost importance; everything else is secondary.  If you are Avignonnaïse, that is current.  But where are you fromWhere is your past?

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Legacy

by Brooks Rexroat

I wake up with Khrushchev’s brass left eye staring me down. His look is angry, as if I’m the one who extracted half his nose

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