Issue 12 | Page 3 | The Common

Tell Me, Please

November 1, 2016 Fiction, Issue 12, Issue 12 Fiction

By EMILY CHAMMAH
I wouldn’t say that Omar is my best friend, because I like to think we are closer than that, that there is something bringing us together more than any friendship could. While it is true that he is my cousin, I never feel as connected to the others—to Muhammad or Nour or Ahmed or Anais—or even to my older sister, Sousan. They don’t know, for example, that I prefer to drink my orange juice without sugar, that I’d rather eat falafels straight out of a paper cone than smashed inside a pocket of bread.

Pegasus

November 1, 2016 Issue 12, Issue 12 Poetry, Podcasts & Audio, Poetry

By VALERIE DUFF

Iron mallet, shield of glass. Our
genesis a crucible of gas
and condensation shot straight through the aorta

The Common Statement

November 1, 2016 Essays, Issue 12, Issue 12 Essays

By JENNIFER ACKER

Mostly, Les gossips and writes about girls. One’s “a real peach” and another “darn nice.” Poor Esther has legs like parentheses—she “must have been born with a barrel between her legs.” Then there’s Mildred, who’s darn good-looking but too biting: “Sarcastic is no word. That’s complimenting her.” Les gets a little revenge when he sees her at a dance with “an awful dopey looking hobo.” He has a good time, even though “nearly every girl there was a pot.”

The Drop

November 1, 2016 Fiction, Issue 12, Issue 12 Fiction

By CLARE BEAMS

The church ladies were having coffee in the living room of the Baker house when Martin Williams delivered his parachute to Lily Baker, his bride. Only some of the church ladies could really have been there, but in retellings they all claimed seats. They allowed one another this. A natural desire, to be part of the story.

Mowing

November 1, 2016 Fiction, Issue 12, Issue 12 Fiction

By ELIZABETH POLINER
That summer, even before she took up mowing, Suzanne was doubting herself, an uncertainty that set in when her husband began to notice the Mandlebrauns’ oldest daughter, Alison, soon to finish college. Alison, who lived in the only other house on their riverside lane, was home in Middle Haddam for the summer and came by to play tennis on their court with their daughter, Michelle, also soon to finish college. The girls, never close friends to begin with, had drifted further apart during their time away at school. It was surprising, then, to see them suddenly pair up, even if only for tennis.

The Blue Hat

November 1, 2016 Issue 12, Issue 12 Poetry, Poetry

By WYATT TOWNLEY

The forecast was wrong.
The bald guy smiling
but wrong. The blonde
with swinging hair

wrong. Their software,
their reading of currents. Rain,
they said, rain for days.

Wythe County in July

November 1, 2016 Issue 12, Issue 12 Poetry, Poetry

By DOLORES HAYDEN

Stare…

—Walker Evans’ advice to young artists

So here’s a board-and-batten house—
a wall of planks with ragged ends
behind the windows’ splitting sills—

Virgil’s Tattoo

November 1, 2016 Issue 12, Issue 12 Poetry, Poetry

By MAX FREEMAN
Virgil got his tattoo in Megara
Around the time he knew that his great poem
Must be destroyed. A reckless decision.

The Next Thief of Magadan

November 1, 2016 Fiction, Issue 12, Issue 12 Fiction

By VLADISLAVA KOLOSOVA

The luxe door had cost them everything. Oak, with wooden lace. It gave the impression there was more behind it than:

one bed,

one couch,

one cupboard,

one telephone,

one twenty-year-old TV set at full volume, and

two eighty-three-year-old women.

He was the seventh thief in the last two years. They came as reliably as seasons.

Rico Gatson: Selections

November 1, 2016 Issue 12, Issue 12 Art, Studio

By RICO GATSON

Introduction by David E. Little

What was required was a new story, a new history told through the lens of our struggle.

—Ta-Nehisi Coates

They say there’s nothing harder than hitting a fastball. In America, clichés on the difficulty of sports abound. But how to describe the challenges of art?