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IF THERE WERE BEES

Lacey and Otto took to the coast and rented a motel room for the weekend, right on the water. Workers in white hazmat suits had descended upon their house, cutting holes into the walls because the bees had filled their home.

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The Amon Liner Poetry Award APPALOOSA RIDER UNCHAINED

Forrest Rapier

Your horses ride today to set you free.
No longer shall your voices be contained,
Or chained to the watchman’s land without a key.

TRAPDOORS

Terry L. Kennedy

Jim Clark used to describe a good story as one with a “trapdoor, that once discovered, leads the reader below the surface to a big room filled with a richness of stuff.” Since taking the helm of The Greensboro Review from Jim, I have been struggling—with little success—to arrive at my own description for those deceptively simple words: “a good story.”

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—Robert Watson

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The Robert Watson Literary Prize Story DON’T KNOW TOUGH

Eli Cranor

Still feel the burn on my neck. Told Coach it was a ringworm this morning when he pick me up, but it ain’t. It a cigarette, or at least what a lit cigarette do when it stuck in your neck. Just stared at Him when He did it. No way I was gonna let Him see me hurt, no way. Bit a hole through the side of my cheek, swallowed blood, and just stared at Him. Tasted blood all day.

The Robert Watson Literary Prize Poem from THE BOOK OF REVELATION

Alison Powell

The first child arrived
as through the oiled doorway of the sea

then came the purple dark closing time
the world a sea of insects
rolling on a waterbed into oblivion