Department Apogee Magazine Where art and literature come to life Department Apogee Magazine: Where art and literature come to life We ask for first publication rights, after which Copyright returns to the author. No portion of Apogee Magazine may be reproduced without permission. All rights reserved. All submissions should be sent to: [email protected]. Include a cover letter with a 2-3 sentence biography. Produced with the generous support of the English Department at High Point University. Editor: Charmaine Cadeau Associate Editors: Christina Buttafuoco Nick Clark Erika Farr Kevin Ruppel Miah Saunders Cara Sinicropi Editorial Office: Department of English Norcross 211 High Point University 833 Montlieu Avenue High Point, North Carolina USA 27262 Email: [email protected] Web: readapogee.com Cover Art: Jenny Kemp, Filigree 1, Gouache on paper, 18 X 24 in. 2011 In a constant search for the hidden, Jenny Kemp constructs worlds that represent the unseen. These internal characteristics of biological forms are a result of her contemplations on the human body and our relationship to organic matter. Working back and forth between painting and animation, Kemp takes digital captures of paintings and manipulates them in Photoshop to create stop-motion videos. Working in these two different mediums allows each to inform her investigation of surfaces, space and form, one cyclically feeding the other. Through this process, she loses touch with the specific origin of the images and an otherworldliness emerges. Kemp works carefully to create subtle color shifts and vibrations that encourage a slow gaze in the viewer, allowing a full engagement with these abstractions. Art Jenny Kemp POETRY Sally Evans That Dreadful Kind of Beauty 13 What My Teacher Says 14 Communion 16 Buyer’s Remorse 18 Ben Bailey A Discourse with One’s Cat 20 Chris Hailey Black Sheep 44 four after midnight on forty-second street 45 Narcolepsy 46 Jeramy Dodds The myth, of course, is that there will be some survivors 48 Notre Reine Reincarnated 49 Oshawa Shopping Centre 50 You've got me where you want me but I ain't all there 51 Michael Peters do jay me fa so la tee tree 65 It knows what you are because you are it 66 Thee Long Long Monologuer 68 Cara Sinicropi In the Garden 71 I Have Buried My Father’s Stories 72 An American Child: Through the Eyes of Your Mother 73 Larry Rapant Crazyquilts 85 FICTION Miah Saunders Tea with Dodger and Betsey 6 it bleeds 11 Caitlin Hines Interesting 26 Maggie Hurt Release 29 Robert Ficociello Stolen Green 52 Jennifer Ozga Stealing Home 75 ESSAY Rachel Lister Marked 23 TRANSLATION Maggie Hurt Depression Hurts 36 Fleury Colon and Philip Rigg Untitled 38 So True! 41 The Text 42 Untitled Star Poem 43 AUTHORS 90 6 with Dodger andea TBetsey words Miah Saunders I wasn’t particularly surprised to find myself having tea with two hippos. I was surprised that they weren’t pink. Dodger harrumphed around the table, and I averted my gaze, because honestly, the last thing I want to do is appear rude. The hippos were large. I would never say it to their face, of course, but it was hard not to notice. Their legs were squat, pointing slightly in. Betsey’s dainty toes were painted a feminine pink. I saw Dodger look pointedly at her feet. He blew an exasperated sigh; twin pillars of hot air shot from his nostrils and near blew my cap from my head. Betsey gave Dodger an affronted look. I stole a biscuit from the wicker basket at our little table and sat, making myself comfortable. Dodger tossed his mammoth head away from her, rolling his eyes as only a hippo could. “I don’t know why,” he started, irritated that they were having the conversation again, "you find the need to make yourself up wherever we go.” Betsey gave an angry snort. The china rattled dangerously on the table. “Do you have to do this in front of company?” Her glossy head jerked in my direction, and I tried to make myself as invisible as I could. It was always embarrassing to be caught in a spat between mates, even worse when they were going on five years and counting, with four little hungry hippos tucked safely away in their pond. *** “Da-ddy,” Shelly whined, taking the stuffed hippo from my hand. “That makes no sense.” Leave it to me to be scolded by 7 a six year old. She shifted her legs under the covers, giving a loud cough that had me immediately reaching for her cough drops. Pretty brown eyes rolled at me, but she dutifully popped one in her mouth. “Dodger and Betsey invite you to have tea in a park?” The large shaking her head in disappointment. Shelly plucked Dodger cough drops in her mouth pressed against her cheek as she from my hand and set the two hippos side by side, walking talked, lisping her words. “Look,” she held Mrs. Betsey up for them in the space between us. me to see. “She’s got no hands, how’s she gonna drink tea?” “Here’s how the story should go,” she instructed. Well, she was right, that didn’t make sense, but! “She does have her dainty nails painted pink,” I pointed out. My baby *** gave me an exasperated look, as if to say that I was a novice who had absolutely no idea what I was doing. “I don’t understand why you have to get all pretty whenever we go out!” Mr. Dodger said to his wife as they walked to the 8 Tea parties with hippos, how ridiculous! school. “It’s not like we’re here for a party!” I leaned back against Shelly’s headboard and stretched my Mrs. Betsey tossed her head, stomping ahead of him. “Now legs beside hers. She moved the small tea set from between us, see here, sir—” *** “Daddy,” Shelly complained. “You have to sound like a girl!” Little Blue Hungry Hippo’s Principal. I pitched my voice as high as I could. “Like this?” *** She laughed delightedly and nodded. “Just one question, darling,” I whispered to my girl as I plucked the two hippos from her hands. “Why were Mr. Dodger and *** Mrs. Betsey always arguing?” My girl shrugged, watching me avidly as I pushed Barbie’s red convertible back into the toy box. “Now see here, sir!” Mrs. Betsey said. “It wouldn’t kill you to try to make yourself presentable!” “Just because they say mean things to each other don’t mean they don’t love and respect each other very much,” Shelly said She crossed into the Saint Augustine’s parking lot, before dutifully with an air of one who’d heard that line too many turning to him and pointing her snout at him accusingly. “If times before. “It’s just how they are.” you could only learn more discipline then maybe Little Blue Hungry Hippo would keep his grades up. I don’t pay for him I nodded, feeling a little embarrassed and a little sad. Little to go to this Catholic School for The Prestigiously Wealthy ears hear everything in this house, I reminded myself, especially and Snobbish for him to bring back grades like these!” She the nasty bits. I pressed a kiss to her forehead. Fever’s gone twisted her tail from behind her, and waved Little Blue down, finally. Hungry Hippo’s report card. “One more question,” I began. Dodger stopped in front of a very stylish red convertible, stomping very close to its hood—too close. Teacher Barbie “You already had one.” wouldn’t be too keen to know just how close her new ride was to being smashed in a Hippo Fit! “Can’t you humor your old man?” She nodded. “That has nothing to do with me! It’s probably all those tea “You do know that no matter how much Mr. Dodger and Mrs. parties you make him go to. As if Curious George is going to Betsey fight, they still love Little Blue Hungry Hippo, right? die if you tell him no just one time.” Forever and ever, no matter what.” Mrs. Betsey tittered, stomping in place restlessly. “As if you’re Shelly looked at me like I was stupid. Did she know that we any better! Bringing by Basketball Star Ken and Under Water weren’t talking about the stupid blue toy in my fist? “Of course, Magic Pocahontas Barbie to show off how much your Hungry Daddy, they tell him all the time.” She paused. “You’re really Hippo can eat!” bad at playing pretend.” 9 They stomp into the school (one at a time, of course, I straightened her bed covers. “Yeah, I guess so.” otherwise they’d have gotten stuck in the doorway) bickering back and forth, tails swishing in sync as they hurried to meet “It’s okay,” Shelly said. “We’ll work on it.” 10 She drifts in with the sunlight, sits primly at the table, glances at me from the corner of her eye. Do you see me? she asks with cloudy white irises, mouth curling around the edges. A cruel smile. I ignore her, singe my tongue, spill coffee down my shirt. A spot of brown on my crossword; it bleeds. Her corn-colored hair hovers around her naked shoulders. You’ve got a spot, darling, she words Miah Saunders Miah words whispers, laughing. A mean laugh. A spot of red on her white dress, a smoking button hole between her eyes; it bleeds. So do you, I want to say.