Topics | Sexual Violence | The Sun Magazine #3

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Sexual Violence

Readers Write

Saying No

A frat party, a swastika, a peach

By Our Readers November 2015
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

A Boy’s Girl

At fifteen I know the word molestation, but it is something done to you by strangers, not brothers who build you forts and make homemade peanut-butter cups.

By Katherine LaBelle October 2014
Poetry

The Encounter At Twenty, 1966

The day that it happened, / my teacher had written crap on the bottom of my first poem. / I wanted to throw it into the Hudson / where it would sink with its no / under the gulls, the garbage scows, and the litter.

By Ellery Akers September 2013
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

The Tyranny Of Paradise

When I was twenty-four years old, it looked to me as if America were coming down. It was 1979, and there was runaway inflation, long lines for gasoline, a nuclear disaster at Three Mile Island. Men were curling their hair and wearing high-heeled shoes, and the Soviets were still poised to bomb us off the map.

By Poe Ballantine June 2013
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Little Bird, Little Bird

There are four types of brick. I remember two of them: pavior and stock. Our row house was all brick with ledges near the roof, four stories up. Pigeons liked to make nests there, but it was stupid; the ledges were too shallow, and with the first strong gust of wind their nests blew down. Still, year after year, they did it. Optimists, those pigeons.

By Mary Jane Nealon January 2013
Poetry

Selected Poems

from “Wondrous” | I’m driving home from school when the radio talk / turns to E.B. White, his birthday, and I exit / the here and now of the freeway at rush hour

By Sarah Freligh August 2012
Readers Write

The Back Door

Catching fireflies, caring for a newborn calf, hearing a slamming door for the first time

By Our Readers April 2011
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

You Always Call On A Sunday

You are not ashamed. You are stunned: By this new thing that he left behind, that spread through you like blood in those hours he was with you. By how easy it is to die.

By Jackie Shannon Hollis March 2010
Readers Write

Narrow Escapes

A noodle shop in central Burma, The Phil Donahue Show, the Tet Offensive

By Our Readers January 2010
Fiction

The Maluksuk

Go-boy made a knife for his girlfriend. He called it an ulu, and I had never seen anything like it before. The ulu was an Eskimo fish-cutting knife. It was about the size and shape of the bill on a Lakers cap. When Go showed me how an ulu was used, he held its handle and carved up the air with card-dealing slashes. He said Eskimos never wasted any meat because of this knife.

By Mattox Roesch September 2009