recovery

By Karl Koweski two hours after the removal of my wife’s uterus I’m able to visit her in the cold anonymity of her hospital room in the maternity ward strange, I think since she’s as far from maternity as I feel from matrimony yet here we are I grimace when she groans I smile, thin-lipped [...]

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shrapnel around the heart

By Karl Koweski the boy sits beneath the shadow of the juniper tree album splayed open on his lap his fingers caress the pieces of his collection a friend joins him an album of his own tucked under his arm and they fall into comparing favorites the boy proudly displays rusted corkscrews, shards of spark [...]

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breakwater

By Karl Koweski if you remain in your car all you can see is the breakwater. ragged chunks of concrete pieces of rebar jutting out like mummified fingers. Lake Michigan lays there a dead ocean indistinguishable from its mortuary slab. smell the embalming fluid, a noxious mixture of detergent and petroleum byproducts pumped in by [...]

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