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    Let the Rivers Speak! – Lucia Cupertino and the Poetry of the Global Souths, by  Pina Piccolo

    Fanta Blackcurrant – Makena Onjerika

    Photographer Sumana Mitra on her street photography and recent explorations of Surrealist techniques

    All the Sadeqs are getting killed – Mojaffor Hossain, translated by Noora Shamsi Bahar

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    Farewell, Silver Girl – Carolyn Miller

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    Lino-printing fairy tales over Constitutions- The artwork of Mihaela Šuman

    Layers of overlap: theatre, cinema, memory, imagination – Farah Ahamed

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    A new reality needed –  A conversation with Mathew Emmett, by Camilla Boemio

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    A medley of artwork from Le braccianti di Euripide collective

    Sagar Kumar Sharma in Conversation with Santosh Bakaya

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    Desperately seeking Marion: A Review of ” Women, Antifascism and Mussolini’s Italy – The Life of Marion Cave Rosselli”, by Isabelle Richet

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    But for plants there is no delegating: Seven Poems by Achille Pignatelli

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    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    Skjelv Du På Handa, Vladimir? / Does Your Hand Shake, Vladimir? –  Transnational Solidarity Project (Odveig Klyve)

    Skjelv Du På Handa, Vladimir? / Does Your Hand Shake, Vladimir? – Transnational Solidarity Project (Odveig Klyve)

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    The malice of desires feeds the power of my imagination – Poems by Mubeen Kishany

    Alahor in Granata: A Forgotten Opera by Donizetti – Fawzi Karim

    Alahor in Granata: A Forgotten Opera by Donizetti – Fawzi Karim

    EARTH ANTHEM : A eulogy of the Earth, its beauty, its biodiversity – Abhay K.

    EARTH ANTHEM : A eulogy of the Earth, its beauty, its biodiversity – Abhay K.

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    IL BIANCO E IL NERO – LE PAROLE PER DIRLO, Conference Milan Sept. 7

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    OPEN POEM TO THE CURATORS OF THE 58th VENICE BIENNALE  FROM THE GHOSTS OF THAT RELIC YOU SHOULD NOT DARE CALL “OUR BOAT” (Pina Piccolo)

    OPEN POEM TO THE CURATORS OF THE 58th VENICE BIENNALE FROM THE GHOSTS OF THAT RELIC YOU SHOULD NOT DARE CALL “OUR BOAT” (Pina Piccolo)

    OPEN LETTER BY A GROUP OF BLACK ITALIAN WOMEN

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    Crowdfunding for [DI]SCORDARE project

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  • Home
  • Poetry
    A medley of artwork from Le braccianti di Euripide collective

    The dolls have pronounced it – Poems by Mohamed Kheder

    Ukrainian Poetry in La Macchina Sognante – In Solidarity with the People of Ukraine

    Ukrainian Poetry in La Macchina Sognante – In Solidarity with the People of Ukraine

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    Three Poems from “The Bastard and the Bishop” – Gerald Fleming

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    God appeared at midnight: Three poems by Bitasta Ghoshal

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    I dream of the tree of silence: Poems by Rafael Romero

    Always another curtain  to draw open: Five poems by Helen Wickes

    Always another curtain to draw open: Five poems by Helen Wickes

  • Fiction
    FLORAL PRINT FLAT SHOES – Lucia Cupertino

    FLORAL PRINT FLAT SHOES – Lucia Cupertino

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    The Red Bananas – N. Annadurai

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    THE CULPRIT – Gourahari Das

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    A very different story (Part I) – Nandini Sahu

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    After Breaking News – Mojaffor Hossain

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    THE THEATER OF MEMORY – Julio Monteiro Martins

    Let the Rivers Speak! – Lucia Cupertino and the Poetry of the Global Souths, by  Pina Piccolo

    Fanta Blackcurrant – Makena Onjerika

    Photographer Sumana Mitra on her street photography and recent explorations of Surrealist techniques

    All the Sadeqs are getting killed – Mojaffor Hossain, translated by Noora Shamsi Bahar

    Photographer Sumana Mitra on her street photography and recent explorations of Surrealist techniques

    Here, Where We Keep on Meeting – Giuseppe Ferrara

  • Non Fiction
    Figures of Pathos  (Part I)- Salvatore Piermarini

    Figures of Pathos (Part I)- Salvatore Piermarini

    Plowing the publishing world  – Tribute to Brazilian writer Itamar Vieira, by Loretta Emiri

    Plowing the publishing world – Tribute to Brazilian writer Itamar Vieira, by Loretta Emiri

    Jaider Esbell – Specialist in Provocations, by Loretta Emiri

    Jaider Esbell – Specialist in Provocations, by Loretta Emiri

    Farewell, Silver Girl – Carolyn Miller

    Farewell, Silver Girl – Carolyn Miller

    Lino-printing fairy tales over Constitutions- The artwork of Mihaela Šuman

    Layers of overlap: theatre, cinema, memory, imagination – Farah Ahamed

    Architectures of Delusion –  Steve Salaita

    Architectures of Delusion – Steve Salaita

  • Interviews & reviews
    The Power of the Female Gaze: On Maria Antonietta Scarpari’s Artistic Practice – Camilla Boemio

    The Power of the Female Gaze: On Maria Antonietta Scarpari’s Artistic Practice – Camilla Boemio

    A new reality needed –  A conversation with Mathew Emmett, by Camilla Boemio

    A new reality needed – A conversation with Mathew Emmett, by Camilla Boemio

    Farewell, Silver Girl – Carolyn Miller

    A medley of artwork from Le braccianti di Euripide collective

    Sagar Kumar Sharma in Conversation with Santosh Bakaya

    Sagar Kumar Sharma in Conversation with Santosh Bakaya

    Sagar Kumar Sharma in a Literary Conversation with Sarita Jenamani

    Sagar Kumar Sharma in a Literary Conversation with Sarita Jenamani

    That’s how war left me alive – Wesam Almadani interviewed by Le Ortique

    That’s how war left me alive – Wesam Almadani interviewed by Le Ortique

  • Out of bounds
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    • Fiction
    • Intersections
    • Interviews and reviews
    • Non fiction
    • Poetry
    M’aidez, May Day – Pina Piccolo

    M’aidez, May Day – Pina Piccolo

    Desperately seeking Marion: A Review of ” Women, Antifascism and Mussolini’s Italy – The Life of Marion Cave Rosselli”, by Isabelle Richet

    Desperately seeking Marion: A Review of ” Women, Antifascism and Mussolini’s Italy – The Life of Marion Cave Rosselli”, by Isabelle Richet

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    Tim Ingold’s “Correspondences” – Giuseppe Ferrara

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    But for plants there is no delegating: Seven Poems by Achille Pignatelli

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    Skjelv Du På Handa, Vladimir? / Does Your Hand Shake, Vladimir? –  Transnational Solidarity Project (Odveig Klyve)

    Skjelv Du På Handa, Vladimir? / Does Your Hand Shake, Vladimir? – Transnational Solidarity Project (Odveig Klyve)

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    The malice of desires feeds the power of my imagination – Poems by Mubeen Kishany

    Alahor in Granata: A Forgotten Opera by Donizetti – Fawzi Karim

    Alahor in Granata: A Forgotten Opera by Donizetti – Fawzi Karim

    EARTH ANTHEM : A eulogy of the Earth, its beauty, its biodiversity – Abhay K.

    EARTH ANTHEM : A eulogy of the Earth, its beauty, its biodiversity – Abhay K.

  • News
    RUCKSACK – GLOBAL POETRY PATCHWORK PROJECT

    RUCKSACK – GLOBAL POETRY PATCHWORK PROJECT

    REFUGEE TALES July 3-5:  Register for a Walk In Solidarity with Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Detainees

    REFUGEE TALES July 3-5: Register for a Walk In Solidarity with Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Detainees

    IL BIANCO E IL NERO – LE PAROLE PER DIRLO, Conference Milan Sept. 7

    IL BIANCO E IL NERO – LE PAROLE PER DIRLO, Conference Milan Sept. 7

    OPEN POEM TO THE CURATORS OF THE 58th VENICE BIENNALE  FROM THE GHOSTS OF THAT RELIC YOU SHOULD NOT DARE CALL “OUR BOAT” (Pina Piccolo)

    OPEN POEM TO THE CURATORS OF THE 58th VENICE BIENNALE FROM THE GHOSTS OF THAT RELIC YOU SHOULD NOT DARE CALL “OUR BOAT” (Pina Piccolo)

    OPEN LETTER BY A GROUP OF BLACK ITALIAN WOMEN

    OPEN LETTER BY A GROUP OF BLACK ITALIAN WOMEN

    Crowdfunding for [DI]SCORDARE project

    Crowdfunding for [DI]SCORDARE project

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THE PORCELAIN VASE – Lynne Knight

November 27, 2017
in Fiction, The dreaming machine n 1
THE PORCELAIN VASE – Lynne Knight
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She’d seen movies where someone accidentally knocked over the ceramic urn containing a loved one’s ashes, scattering them as the urn broke into pieces, so although she’d poured her husband’s ashes into the porcelain vase they’d bought in Limoges on their honeymoon, when they drove all around France, she wrapped the vase in a blanket and put it far back in the closet—his side of the closet, which she hadn’t touched since. She hadn’t touched it before, either, so all his clothes were still hanging there. Sometimes she imagined opening the sliding door and pressing her face into his jackets, his shirts, and weeping, something else she’d seen in movies. But she would feel overwrought, so she kept his side of the closet closed.

Her sons said, again, that they should pour the ashes into the river as their father had requested. Her sons were grown men, busy with their lives, so although they wanted to honor their father’s last wishes, they didn’t press her. The older son thought it was macabre, the word he used, to keep the ashes wrapped in a blanket at the back of the closet. No doubt they both said to each other that it was better to have the ashes at the back of the closet than to have her hurling the vase across the living room some night when she’d had too much to drink.

Why couldn’t she pour the ashes into the river herself? She didn’t need her sons to be there. They would be angry if they found out she’d gone and done it without them, but she wouldn’t say a word, and maybe they wouldn’t realize the vase was empty until she herself was dead. She would leave the vase on the mantle and wait for her sons to notice it there. Chances were neither one of them would ever look inside it. Both would assume the ashes were still there and would press her, again, about the river. She planned what to say: Some people just don’t like the idea of the dead traveling away from them like that.

She herself did like the idea. She’d liked it all along, but she’d waited a year, for reasons she couldn’t quite articulate but knew had to do with the comfort she took in observing ritual. So on the first anniversary of her husband’s death, she went to the river late at night—a moonlit, warm August night. Dark fields rolled up from either side of the river like alternative skies, lit by lightning bugs instead of stars. It dizzied her, staring into the fields and then back into the river.

The ashes rose like a ghost, so much like a ghost that she heard herself laugh. A laugh more like a bark, and by then, the ashes had sunk into the water.

When she got home, she put the empty vase on the mantle and went upstairs. She took all his clothes from the closet and carried them out onto the lawn, where she laid them out in a stack high as a coffin. Let everyone think she’d gone mad. In the morning, someone would call her older son, who lived closer to her, and he would come running. She would look him in the eye and say, slowly, looking away from him to the vase on the mantle, that he and his brother had been badgering her to take care of the closet for a year. Hadn’t they? Then she would smile, daring him to contradict her the way his father always had.

 


Lynne Knight has published five full-length poetry collections and four chapbooks, along with I Know (Je sais), a translation, with the author Ito Naga, of his Je sais. Her sixth collection, The Language of Forgetting, will appear from Sixteen Rivers Press in 2018. Her awards include publication in Best American Poetry, a Lucille Medwick Memorial Award from the Poetry Society of America, a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts, and a RATTLE Poetry Prize.

 

 

Featured image: Photo by Melina Piccolo.

Tags: attachmentcremationdominationfamiliesfictionindependenceLynne KnightNorth Americashort storiesurnUSAwidows

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