Issue 144

Summer & Fall 2013

Image from When Walt Whitman Was a Little Girl

Poetry Sarah Crossland Poetry Sarah Crossland

Collected Stories

The scent of these armpits aroma finer than prayer

—Walt Whitman

After a day of walking through sun-clutched Virginia, you unlatch

your wool coat and hang it from the ladder. The sleeves of your

blue Oxford rolled back from your wrists.

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