Featured

Featured items for the current week.

Featured Works: Week of March 12 (Growing Up)

By on Mar 12, 2017 in Featured | 0 comments

This week, Wild Violet’s contributors focus on that fuzzy, confusing time between childhood and adulthood. In her poem “Last Witness to My Childhood,” Jacqueline Jules reflect on life with a disabled sister. John Woodington’s story, “The Weightlifters,” goes back to high school to show how it’s possible to belong and be outsiders at the same time. Eve Kenneally’s poem, “Zayn Leaves...

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Zayn Leaves One Direction, Teen Girl Twitter Universe Mourns

By on Mar 12, 2017 in Featured, Poetry | 0 comments

Everything seems to happen on a Wednesday — now he is gone and I have a thousand names, a handful of universes, a hot flush behind my teeth. Mermaid cheeks, where did he go — now he is gone and I have a thousand names, videos of screaming, thinning whistled T-shirt teeth. Mermaid cheeks, where did he go — cat eyes dying into 4th period. Please get videos of screaming, thinning whistled T-shirt fusion. Vigils send...

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The Weightlifters

By on Mar 12, 2017 in Featured, Fiction, Uncategorized | 0 comments

The Northfield High weightlifting team needed bodies.  Of the original ten-man team, six had been cut, busted with fake IDs up at the Pleasureland strip club off the highway.  One guy dropped out after knocking up a sophomore, and another guy quit after getting pinned to the drop floor accordion-style under a ninety-kilo snatch without a spotter around to pull it off his neck.  Connor decided to try out for the team,...

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Last Witness to My Childhood

By on Mar 12, 2017 in Featured, Poetry | 0 comments

Sister, I wanted a seesaw: both sides taking turns, pushing the other up. But your legs were never strong enough. For years, I felt cheated, like you’d swiped my favorite teddy, hidden it inside your crooked spine. Daddy said, “No, you’re the healthy one, the lucky one. You can ride the swing by yourself. Touch the sky with your toes. She can’t, unless you help her.” Now Daddy’s gone, Momma, too, and we’re both too old...

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Particles of Me

By on May 31, 2015 in Featured, Poetry | Comments Off

Blake discovered the world in a grain of sand, and I am now among those grains, tossed from a blossoming, pale sweaty, soft palm into the darkening surf; my last wishes. I am dissolved within the seaweed and misty, salty air, deep within a child’s sand castle slowly eroded by the high tide; particles of me mixed with coconut oil rubbed into the brown skin of a Brazilian beauty, more of me still at the bottom of a black Labrador’s...

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Molted

By on May 31, 2015 in Cuttings, Featured, Poetry | Comments Off

clinging to a twig with unmoving tiny claws — cicada shell

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