by Centaur Lit | Jan 28, 2025 | Winter 2025
Remember the redolence of oil paints filling the cottage your paintbrush capturing the drift and dive of ospreys sway of sea grass in the wind … your orange and blue license plate with letters LHS you said stood for Little Helen Silver since you were only...
by Centaur Lit | Jan 28, 2025 | Winter 2025
“How long is a light year?” the father asked, as we pretended to read the ads in Reader’s Digest. In the time it took for the girl to guess, light traveled from the Sun to Mercury, the rabbit ear TV singing its white noise ostinato to anime battle music over the sweet...
by Centaur Lit | Jan 28, 2025 | Winter 2025
For a long time, I lived in my childhood—first as a child, then for many years after. I sat on the back patio and spit watermelon seeds into the grass where the snakes soaked up the sun. My mother made pies with rhubarb from the garden, the stalks softening as they...
by Centaur Lit | Jan 28, 2025 | Winter 2025
It used to snow in Ohio. Snow in a way that freezes the moisture in your nose when you step outside, causing your childhood imagination to worry about ice crystals forming in your brain. It pummeled this state in a way that defeated our abilities to open our front...
by Centaur Lit | Jan 28, 2025 | Winter 2025
Pink Light It was the pink light falling from the club’s lamp onto the woman’s face that made her look aglow, and it was the slow, then fast-fast movements and undulations in her voice, other-worldly, that made the room and everyone in it think of a baby that needed...
by Centaur Lit | Jan 28, 2025 | Winter 2025
Revving up its engine, a driverless ambulance drove straight into my living room. The wall around it collapsed. The ambulance showed no love, and nobody saw its elusive driver. It exhaled black claustrophobic smoke. Its mission was unknown. The mysterious ambulance...