Fiction   Essays   Poetry  The Ten On Baseball Chapbooks In Memory

Heather A. McMacken


Apple grabs Eve.
She doesn't like skin, though, so
A thin red strip
Drops to the dirt. Her arms are
Her eyes are open.

Adam returns. He'd been swimming all
Afternoon; hair hangs straight, black,
And wet. His pineapple
Drops to the dirt.
His lips invent Please.

Later, they will say
Wearing rags.

©2008 by Heather A. McMacken

Heather A. McMacken received her B.A. in English from Oakland University, after studying under notable poet Edward Haworth Hoeppner. She currently works as an arts writer, contributing to publications such as Detroit's Metro Times, Real Detroit Weekly, and Gazette van Detroit. Her poems have appeared, or are forthcoming in, Detroit's Metro Times, Oakland County Beat, The Fairfield Review,, 3rd Muse Poetry Journal, Nthposition, and PKA's Advocate. Heather has won a Liberal Arts Network for Development (LAND) poetry prize, and will soon attend graduate school to pursue an MFA in poetry. For more information see her MySpace.

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