Colorado State University Center for Literary Publishing

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Beyond Love

Feb, 26 2018 | no responses

If the saints are to be believed, if this body is a dress / we slip into, out of, if each day and night is the mantle / we tie around our shoulders, fabric thin as the time it takes

Marriage Abstract

Feb, 26 2018 | no responses

I love you like my hands, which haul / the money in. Into our laps spill daughter / and son. We are drowning in wine and beer, / carrying each other across these rooms, / glasses filled above our brims.

Colorado Review Spring 2018

Feb, 26 2018 | no responses

“Something had changed,” writes Marilyn Abildskov in her essay “Scotty’s: A Brief History of Expatriate Time,” a memoir of her time teaching English in Japan. “Something inside me had changed—some boundary had been crossed or become irrevocably blurred, and I couldn’t put the old order back in place.” We often can’t resist trying to pinpoint […]

The Night Runner

Dec, 12 2017 | no responses

The girls mimicked his voice when he spoke, squeaking at him in high-pitched, nasal tones. They flicked things at him: not only chalk, but bits of spit-sodden paper, corn kernels, bobby pins, and flaky, greenish balls made of snot. Once, after he’d handed back a set of exercises, Roda Kudondo sauntered up to his desk and shoved her notebook in his face, mumbling in a slurred mishmash she intended as an imitation of his Texas drawl. The class exploded in laughter, and Aaron, not understanding, ordered her back to her seat.

Colorado Review Fall/Winter 2017

Nov, 17 2017 | no responses

Every fall, we have the true pleasure of publishing the winning story of the Nelligan Prize for Short Fiction. This year, it’s Katie M. Flynn’s “Island Rule,” in which an environmental biology professor is haunted by memories of the surreally accelerated evolution and ensuing political violence that expelled her, as a child, from her island […]

Letter from Nine Mile

Nov, 17 2017 | no responses

Outside my window, a crane breaks / the last jigsaws of ice. Morning comes, / it always does, the rabbits scurry down / their narrow holes to live their underground lives.

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