* poetry by Kara Van De Graf from MQR 53:3, Summer 2014 *
From the grandmother of my grandmother, it lives
at the footboard of the bed, passed down to me
by my own mother. As a child, I traced
the blonde-wood petals of flowers, the garden
etched with dark walnut vines. And below,
near a lip of scrollwork, two narrow drawers kept
in check by a key. It was only when I slid
the drawers from their runners that I noticed
* nonfiction by Marcin Otto, from Stefanie Wortman’s essay in MQR 53:3 Summer 2014 * In early 1940, several months into the Nazi occupation, Elektoralna found itself in the middle of a huge quarter called the Warsaw Ghetto, surrounded by a tall wall. Eleonora was Jewish but apparently she abandoned the flat with her children and stayed outside of the Ghetto, concealing their Jewish identities. In practice, it was a question of whether you looked Semitic and had the papers in order.
Jerry Dennis looks at the history of confining birds, Zhanna Slor comments on her family, Brenda Hood comments on hers, Stefanie Wortman discovers her namesake’s life in the Warsaw Ghetto and beyond, Mukund Belliappa explores the coolie experience in the former British Empire, Josh Lambert reviews books on the history of publishing.
Poetry by Rachel Morgenstern-Clarren, Kyle McCord, Alison Prine, Jack Ridl, Jennifer Sperry Steinorth, Elizabeth Schmuhl, Kara Van De Graaf, Cindy Veach, Sara Wallace.
Fiction by Dariel Suarez, Rachel Groves, Katherine L. Hester, Victoria Lancelotta.
* fiction by Courtney Sender, excerpted from MQR 53:2, Spring 2014 * Look, the truth of the way of the world is that David loves Moira enough to move to the middle of Nothing, England, for her, and Moira doesn’t love David enough to pick up the goddamned phone.
All David wants to do is warn her:
* nonfiction by Christopher Kempf, excerpted from MQR 53:2, Spring 2014 * I began to understand by the second beer that I’d been misled in more than mere appearances. Aubrey was not, as she suggested in the “What I’m doing with my life” section of her profile, “petting every single dog she saw” for a living, but was, like so many young San Franciscan hipsters I’d been trying to avoid, working for a tech start-up in the Financial District. *