Summer 2008

Table of Contents - Vol. IV, No. 2


Poetry    Translations    Non-Fiction    Fiction    Essays   

Corey Cook


The Hopkinton/Webster Transfer Station

I turn the blue milk crate over and plastic bottles
spill out – ricocheting and pooling on the cement
floor of the receptacle. He shuffles by as I hurl

crushed cardboard into a separate stall. Wearing
pilled sweatpants and a stained gray sweat shirt.
Sweatpants that ride up and reveal red, swollen

ankles. His stomach sags below his shirt – etched
with veins. He shuffles by, I smile and he hangs
his hooded head. I climb into my car and there he

is in my rearview mirror – a gray cloud scudding
across a blue sky. One of his pockets turned out –
a white flag whipping back and forth in the wind.


© Corey Cook



Poetry    Translations    Non-Fiction    Fiction    Essays   

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