Kelly Luce lived in rural Japan for two years (including six days in jail) and keeps a hula hoop in her car. She’s been a fellow at the MacDowell Colony and Jentel Arts, and received the 2008 Jackson Award from the San Francisco Foundation and Tampa Review’s 2008 Danahy Fiction Prize. Kelly’s work has appeared in North American Review, The Gettysburg Review, Massachusetts Review, and Nimrod. You can find her here.
I’d been thinking about leaving. I’d been thinking how there’s something about out here. Before long it’s a new January and you’re hungover with a heartache for a man you won’t see for several years until he pops up on that very popular, critically-acclaimed sitcom with that actress you learned to like, then hate, then feign indifference abou
The leak in your breathing/ tube makes a cartoon squeak./ It takes two nurses, silent/ as nuns, to place you/ in my arms...
If I have already/ gone insane/ but I want to get/ crazier yet,/ what’s my move?/ Go outsane?
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