Evan James Sheldon
I hate this bulging foreign winter beneath my skin. If I could stop moving sideways I
think everything would be okay. A fireplace is a city, but a campfire has gravity. We mull
around the flames like sparks, floating away when we get too hot, only to come
right back. It is uncomfortable too near any fire, but too cold if you move away.
Evan James Sheldon’s work has appeared, or is forthcoming, in Spelk, Roanoke Review, and Poetry Super Highway, among others. He is a junior editor for F(r)iction.