Issue Eighteen - Summer 2011

Stimulus

By Sandra Kolankiewicz

Soon I was coveting again: latest
Kenmore refrigerator, a larger
hot tub, fresh paper for the powder room.
All night I wanted upgrades: stove, glasses,
dryer, computer, satellite channels,
husband. The children slept snug in their beds,
stuck on Christmas, riding the eternal
Dreamland Express to the midnight discount
store. One day, the girl up the block parked a
bright Soul, dull Ford gone from her drive.
Someone in back installed a slate roof. Our brick
streets yielded as men in brand new reflective
vests rolled down clean tar. We didn’t care that
the routes were lined with cones, one-laned all
the way to the mall, just as long as asphalt
got things moving here. By then, families
with signs had gone back to Florida, the
food banks restocked with boxed macaroni.

Copyright Kolankiewicz 2011

Sandra Kolankiewicz lives in Marietta, Ohio, which is in the southeast corner of the state at the confluence of the Ohio and Muskingum Rivers in the Appalachian foothills. Her poems and stories have appeared in North American Review, Confrontation, Chicago Review, Mississippi Review, and Cimarron Review. Her chapbook, Turning Inside Out, won the Black Lawrence Fall 2007 Competition. Her novel, Blue Eyes Don't Cry, won the 2008 Hackney Award for the Novel.

All work by