Latte Archives: Tags “contest winner”

Winter 2013 Issue

The Other Chair By Annita Sawyer

First Prize, 2012 Literal Latte Essay Award.
On G8-East, an inpatient psychiatry unit at the West Haven VA hospital, it was time for team meeting. I scribbled the last of my therapy notes, tucked the pen and notebook under my arm, grabbed my sweater, and slipped a loaded key ring over my wrist….

Posted in Essays | Also tagged | 1 Response

Kritios Boy By Nancy Ludmerer

Third Prize, 2012 Literal Latte Essay Award.
I’d always remembered Michael’s birthday, even when years and miles separated us, and when there it was in The New York Times death notices after his name, I knew it was him, my first love, beginning when I was fifteen….

Posted in Essays | Also tagged | 9 Responses

A Kite, A Frame, A Tail By Gregory Loselle

Second Prize, 2012 Literal Latte Poetry Award.
Consider how a kite struck from the sky
collapses on itself and creases up
in flight: a battered bird, a broken hand…

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Freefall By Susan Cohen

First Prize, 2012 Literal Latte Poetry Award.
He plans to plummet
from the edge of space.
Freefall. Rainfall. Whirlwind….

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Mistaken Identity By Enid Harlow

Third Prize, 2012 Literal Latte Fiction Award.
In a corner of the room sits an old man with sparse white hair, face of chalk, and fixed blue eyes. His body is as thin as a cadaver’s and his eyes stare out into the room as if they would seize everything in it and take it down into themselves. The baby at the breast cannot see the old man sitting in the corner….

Posted in Fiction | Also tagged | 20 Responses

Fall 2012 Issue

Amanda’s Violin By Judy Fort Brenneman

Third Prize, 2011 Literal Latte Essay Award.
The round table at the coffee shop is covered with a dark green and tan cloth. The four chairs fill its arc on the side away from the wall. I’m on one end of the arc; my backpack and a white teddy bear named Snowball fill the next two chairs; and Amanda, a slight, elven-faced girl-child of ten, sits in the fourth chair….

Posted in Essays | Also tagged | 4 Responses

I’m Not Writing About Robin By Wendy Thornton

Second Prize, 2011 Literal Latte Essay Award.
My friend, Robin, died recently. I drove across the country to visit her before she died, to remind her that her bravery made me brave. She seemed comforted by this thought, as much as you can be comforted when you know you’re going to die within a specific timeframe….

Posted in Essays | Also tagged | 8 Responses

Sinking the Eight By Marc Nieson

First Prize, 2012 Literal Latte Fiction Award.
It seems your life can be measured. And I’m not talking about notches in a doorway, candles on a cake, or even that line between dates on your tombstone, but individual moments. Split seconds, really, that’ll come along quiet and fleeting as heartbeats yet divert your destinations nonetheless….

Posted in Fiction | Also tagged | 3 Responses

The Limits of Certainty By Renée Thompson

Second Prize, 2012 Literal Latte Fiction Award.
He was most alive while birding. In summer he pitched a tent, prepared his meals on a Coleman stove, and drank coffee from an aluminum cup. He crawled into his sleeping bag just after dusk and rose before sunrise, ate a breakfast of one boiled egg or half a banana, then prepared his field gear…

Posted in Fiction | Also tagged | 9 Responses

Tinkering with Grief in the Woods By Mark Liebenow

First Prize, 2011 Literal Latte Essay Award.
I sit in my shorts by an open window in Kentucky surrounded by a hundred sleeping monks. Beyond the monastery’s stone walls, beyond the dark scrabbled woods of hickory and oak, a dog barks at raccoons moving through the night, or at nothing at all, and the world settles back down into quiet….

Posted in Essays | Also tagged | 12 Responses
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