B. D'J. Pancake

  • The Honored Dead

    “I put out my hand like the bar of soap was in it, and see its whiteness reflect blue from the streetlights long ago. And I remember Eddie’s hand flattened on green felt, arched knuckles cradling the cue for a tough eight-ball shot, or I remember the way his hand curled around his pencil to hide answers on math tests. I remember his hand holding an arrowhead or unscrewing a lug nut, but I can’t remember his face.”

  • In The Dry

    “August seems early for the hills to rust with dying trees, early for embankments to show patches of pale clay between milkweed and thistle. All is ripe for fire.”

  • Trilobites

    “I see a concrete patch in the street. It’s shaped like Florida, and I recollect what I wrote in Ginny’s yearbook: ‘We will live on mangoes and love.’”