2024 Pushcart Prize Nominees
"Siderodromophobia" by Kelsey Bigelow SIDERODROMOPHOBIA FEAR OF TRAINS Never did I expect your Amtrak express to tear through my ribcage then pour alcohol on my raw heart Because of you I still cringe at train whistles and vodka shots I lack trust for men who ask me to board because you brought me into your drunken viewing car though you already imagined me tied to your tracks The only thing I can count on is that each swig of scotch will shred my throat and still be softer than you
"Spring in Town - 1942" by Janet Carl SPRING IN TOWN - 1942 If wise Eve had never tasted that sweet fruit, She would still be in the garden, but not this garden, The one in which we toil and sweat over the ordinary tasks Of beating and mowing, tilling and fixing. Never knowing winter, Eve could not guess the joy of the hot sun warming Our backs, the feel of the breeze refreshing our quilts and souls, The fragrance we shake loose from a young apple tree. If Eve had not chosen life over perfection, Our sons and brothers and fathers would be here, Sharing our work and living out their days in the sweetness of Our little Iowa town. But Eve chose. She took a bite, and we became human, God beaming At us from the four-eyed steeple, Making the sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sending rain on the just and the unjust.
"finalmente" by Julie Allyn Johnson finalmente roosting in lofty rafters intuition steadies a precarious perch the tribe surrounds but does not sustain me I've failed to qualify as one of the elect, one of their chosen few no longer riven by sibling guile or the poison hatchet of a mother's tongue I hasten, now, to leave I'll fly as is my birthright I shall preen my own wings
"Silent Night" by Teresa Lawler Silent Night Her car is there. Head facing forward wearing a grimace as a smirk travels across her face. My grip on the steering wheel tightens as I remind my kids to be sure and grab everything. Our weekend visit ends as the dusky darkness of January envelopes the icy exchange. No words are spoken. No time for hugs. Just soft silent goodbyes as they crunch through the snowy barrier between my truck and her car. Pulling out of the parking lot into the winter solitude Small hands wave from the back window as I contemplate my silent trip home.
"The Rarity of Eiswein" by Lisa Morlock The Rarity of Eiswein For Tim-the very best one. You passed in the dawn and left us a frosted fall day, coated in the glisten of powder-sugar snow, grapes still on the vine- The cold had come too soon. And we were left to make the best of it, gathering quick and careful, the chilly orbs clinging low- salvaging all we could. They say seasons cut short leave the very best vintage. Clean, with a fresh finish, without faults or flaws. Like the golden peach glow of ice wine, you only knew the honey hours of summer. And that made you the sweetest.
"The History of My Backyard" by Ashley Wolftornabane The History of My Backyard This land already had a people when the Europeans came They were called "Sioux" because of miscommunication The Oceti Sakowin, let us say their name "Seven Council Fires", seven parts of the same Seven tribes, now all sent to the reservation This land already had a people when the Europeans came They regard the Buffalo as a relative, we saw them as game They say "Mitákuye Oyás'in": All are my relation The Oceti Sakowin, let us say their name People don't like to talk about it - too much guilt and shame Children ripped from mothers and force-fed a white education This land already had a people when the Europeans came Keeping the "phéta wakján," sacred fire, aflame Prayer and ritual bring them close to Creation The Oceti Sakowin, let us say their name Ugly history should make us feel uncomfortable; that's the aim Doing better in the future is our obligation This land already had a people when the Europeans came The Oceti Sakowin, let us say their name