May 2019 | The Piltdown Review

May 2019

Portrait

Portrait

The beast bent on my destruction grows hairs from its pores, shaggy, malkempt. Sharp blades cut them but they cut back.
His Sculpture

His Sculpture

O to just wash it clean, white as the shelf it sits on, that thing he’d put up on a pedestal—a misshapen bicycle seat, swollen coffee bean.
Q. & A. with Mark Wagstaff

Q. & A. with Mark Wagstaff

The Brooklyn-based writer, Third Prize winner in our Fall/Winter Fiction Contest, discusses his short story “Emmaus.”
Emmaus

Emmaus

THIRD PRIZE WINNER. A London detective’s unraveling memory leads him deep into a decades-old—and deadly—equestrian mystery.
Summer, 2016

Summer, 2016

Parkinson’s a bitch, my father said, shaking off the awkwardness of having his son hold him in bed to hold off the shaking.
On reading “7-Year-Old Girl Starves in U.S. Border Patrol Custody”

On reading “7-Year-Old Girl Starves in U.S. Border Patrol Custody”

I heap my family’s plates as if that would feed her. But who can chew? Anyone can smell the whitethorn acacia.
By Then

By Then

Where did you go? my father asked from the bed I sat beside when I told him I was back. I told him I went home to fetch the family.
The Foreigners

The Foreigners

They came from a shtetl they swore didn’t deserve a name. The youngest kept finding stray stones in their pockets.
A Strong Premonition of Death Struck Me This Morning

A Strong Premonition of Death Struck Me This Morning

Some days, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t shake that sense of impending doom.

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    a poem by Roger W. Hecht
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    a poem by Rose Auslander
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    a story by Matthew Talamini
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