Deborah Shouse
Deborah Shouse wanders around Kansas and wonders about love.
you never realized
a woman comes to the door, wearing a saffron robe, her straight hair in a brown bun, her face stern but capable of merriment. her long robes sway, shine purples and royal blues as you follow her.
October 1988Chased
She was chaste and chased. Miriam saw the men looking at her as she dove into the swimming pool, her body a golden promise.
August 1988Childhood
“I only wish I could be so young and carefree,” your father says when he comes home from work. He doesn’t remember what it’s like. The pressure, the decisions.
March 1988Abilities
As I drank my tea, I hoped I wouldn’t remember my dreams tonight. Last night’s dream about Walter confused me — I hadn’t thought of him in years. He had been two lovers before Fletcher, my first serious relationship as a divorced woman. I wondered what had become of him.
February 1988What Will Be
I should have known Brian would leave me. I should have felt his restlessness and uncertainty. Instead, I woke up four Mondays ago with only a tattered note for a companion. I was abandoned, surprised, and angry. What good were my powers if I couldn’t predict my own life?
September 1987Intuition
“I love you,” I shout. I can’t believe I spoke so directly. Usually I prefer to communicate on a more sub-conscious level. “I love you, Christa.” But Christa is already typing, and has written over my words.
June 1987Has something we published moved you? Fired you up? Did we miss the mark? We’d love to hear about it.
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