An August Evening, Then by Martha Christina

I sit outside with my father,
in the breezeway, escaping
my mother and the heat
of the house. We take
turns calling out the makes
of cars driving down our street,
a game my father invented
for us to play together. He’s
taught me what to look for:
hood ornaments, tail lights,

grills. He’s a good teacher,
good at explaining things.

My mother doesn’t join us.
Before and after supper
she stays inside, either
preparing, or cleaning up.
A rotary fan sits on the
kitchen counter, and it
drowns out our voices.

It’s getting dark; soon
my father will drive to
the house of the woman
he has just told me he loves.
A young widow, with a
son my age. Ten. She’s
also a teacher. Don’t
ask me to explain, he says.



Martha Christina has published two collections: Staying Found (Fleur-de-lis Press) and Against Detachment (Pecan Grove Press). Her work appears in earlier issues of Red Eft Review, and recently in Star 82 Review, Crab Orchard Review, and Tiny Seed Journal’s Pollinator Project. Born and raised in Indiana, she now lives in Bristol, Rhode Island.