Index by Author

The Nancy Walton Pringle Memorial Prize, Winter 2014
Ethan Fugate
Prosonomasia
Some help please. Something maybe smooth.
A pudding? The cover of a Yes album?

Brick top. Flag pole. Faces.
Unasked for dream.

My glass is half dirty half clean.
The traffic is big getting bigger.

I have perfectly normal hearing.
This means I do not listen.

If you ever called me I would be happy.
But you don’t call me. I’m still happy

but sometimes I am sad because you don’t.
It’s okay because we look at each other

through the television.
The shows you watch I watch.

We’re on the same page.
We’re onto the same page.

But we’re not. Tic toc
across the plastic street

is the curious circus and the name
you gave away. In the ring a cyclist

goes round and round. A room exists
on the bicycle. In that room robotic

cinephiles speaking gear ratio and crankset
discuss the finer points of a shock

offering. The word codex sounds funny coming
out of their grilled and blinking mouths.

The dog looks up at me from the couch.

©2014 Ethan Fugate