Positively Volcanic by Dale Champlin

We played a game—the floor was lava—we hopped from couch to chair,crab walked across the window seat,then swung from the chandelieronto the library table. If you knockedanything over—a book, a goblet,a bowl of flowers—you would burstinto flame. When that happened the little hairs of me shot straight up.I squealed.  “Pop Goes the Weasel” tinkledin my ears. Outside small wrenspeeped in the bushes. Mouthwateringsmells drifted from the … Continue reading Positively Volcanic by Dale Champlin

Free of Pretense by Dale Champlin

You’d be surprised how many people talk to goldfish. He looked like a young David Bowie,her kid Jimmy, when he came and sat beside my bowl. “You know I’m an addict,”he told me. He talked to me the whole time he spread out his paraphernalia—needle, cotton balls,one of the Old Shoe’s bestsilver-plate spoons. He tied off his arm and flicked a vein to pop it to the surface, addeda few … Continue reading Free of Pretense by Dale Champlin

Barbie Suffers from Insomnia by Dale Champlin

O Mother                  I love you                  despite                                    everything. —Erica Jong To be deprived of sight and sound—exhausted as a lobster in a trap—unblinking—plunged to a depthwhere everything goes black. Here my desires seem flimsy—even water has lost its transparency. Threads of bubbles syphon up from my bed of leaf mold. Dear Mother, are you on your third Manhattan of the evening? Is my little girl lost in fitful sleep?Is your son under arrest … Continue reading Barbie Suffers from Insomnia by Dale Champlin