Antithesis Common Literary Magazine - Issue VI, Winter 2006/07

__
<< PREVIOUS	NEXT >>

__
Cover Table of Contents Editor's Notes Donations Submission Guidelines Website Stories & Essays '57 Chevy _ By Gary Moshimer A Visit to India From America... _ By Shubha Venugopal Calista Flockhart and the MySpace Hoax _ By Michael Frissore Recollections and Revelations _ By Elizabeth Harbaugh Springtime Visits _ By Phyllis Link Stupendous Stew _ By Malerie Yolen-Cohen The Genius _ By Ray Templeton The Stranger Below _ By Sam Vargo Truant _ By Louise Norlie Vacation _ By Dan Devine Vegetarian Rage _ By John A. Ward What Might Pass Between Them _ By Alexandra Leake Poetry A Glutton For Truth _ By Richard Fein A Question of Proper Form _ By Richard Fein Boiler Man _ By Leland Jamieson Horizons _ By Davide Trame Lioness In Miniature _ By Grace M. Murray Outdone _ By Pete Lee Real Life Elocution _ By Richard Fein Rewriting An Ending _ By Rumit Pancholi September _ By Tim Shell Seven Ways of Looking at a Full Moon _ By Naiya Wright Shalom _ By Jeanne Hugoe-Matthews Sideways _ By Kristine Ong Muslim Spirit _ By Patrick Frank The Empty Spaces After You _ By Rumit Pancholi Thesaurus _ By Ed Higgins Uncle Zebulon _ By J.R. Salling Art & Photography Dora Calo Robert Carter Noah Erkes Andrew Patsalou Saulius Filip Wierzbicki _	The Empty Spaces After You By Rumit Pancholi I called you my conductor: the lines you drew in the air formed letters, in [each] turn, becoming words that spelled out quietly and weakly like your fingers that always tickled me until I begged them not to. You can’t do it anymore, I told you, your body wearing like a key with broken teeth, still pushing on as if I was not on the phone that day when the doctor told me, “Two more months.” And to that you suggested, “Let’s have a yard sale.” The doctor warned me to expect this, but as you gathered together boxes, I knew you only wanted fewer things around when it was time. You left me behind a clean circle on the ground where your feathered lamp stood, four holes in the wall - that space once filled by your torn fresco - and the cool under your pillow, so they’d all be easier to forget. _ _ RUMIT PANCHOLI earned a BA in English from the University of Maryland in May 2006 and is currently an MFA candidate in Poetry at the University of Notre Dame. His poetry has appeared in Banyan Review and Double Dare Press, among other places. In Rumit's free time, he likes to travel and write book reviews. _