by Russell Evatt
Except now he is
boy, watching television on a Sunday
play football with the neighborhood
his father’s recliner
harshly out of line from the others.
exist—except it was in front of him,
The father wrapped his arms
the pinkie was popped into place.
his hand, and now it hurt. But
fingers taped together he’d be back
that’s just what he needed,
I could no longer see
Russell Evatt has a bachelor's degree in English from Texas Tech University and an MFA from the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. He recently spent a year in Krakow where he received a CELTA certification for teaching English as a foreign language. He then worked at a private language school teaching English and also spent his time studying and taking classes to learn the Polish language. His work has appeared in PANK, Louisville Review, Frostwriting, Blue Earth Review, and Iron Horse Literary Review, among others.