From the top of the hill, they look like dogs to her, so she jumps up and down between her parents and yells her word for dog again and again. She likes the way that when they step on the ground, she can hear them as long as there is no wind and the birds have gone to sleep. That night, they walk past the camp and wake her from her dreams. She holds her breath in the dark. She yells her favorite word into the moonlight wisps of fog: dog and dog and dog.
John Brantingham is a professor and directs the creative writing program at Mt. San Antonio College. He is the writer-in-residence at the dA Center for the Arts in Pomona, California, and the president of the San Gabriel Valley Literary Festival. His latest collection is The Green of Sunset, Moon Tide Press.
Asked what person or thing gives you a sensation of floating, he replied, “My wife and jazz. When we open the windows in the evening, turn on the radio and listen to it and the music of the Los Angeles freeways, life is everything I need.”
Art — Priscilla Boatwright is an illustrator and writer working in San Antonio. She is fascinated with myth, magic, and the connections between cultural identity and art. Priscilla received her BFA in illustration at the Rhode Island School of Design. See more of her artwork at http://cargocollective.com/boatart.
Back to Issue 5: Things that Float