It rained all night. In the dark, from her window,
she saw somebody fall, curse, mumble,
look for something, dig through the mud
and give up when he figured out he was holding
horse dung. He left.
She threw the curtain back and went to sleep.
In the morning when the light broke with the roosters,
she opened the gate softly and in the muck on the road
she saw something glitter.
She bent and picked it up: somebody’s
full set of teeth.
She washed them at the tap in the yard
and tied them in …Read article
In the encroaching ward, among the old ways,
Perhaps our eyes will meet yet in that hall
Where artificial hips and hope allays
The recognition of the other half, or all
The light, now dimmed by passing days,
Revokes the wheelchair or the final fall.
Let your yes be yes, your nays, nays,
So at the last our honesty stands tall
Against the lies our weakness prays.
And in that weary place, wrapped in a shawl,
May we be parted where love stays
And learn to live together, after all.
Listen to the …Read article
From issue 8:
Listen to the author read the piece:
He swaggers into the bar, sure of himself—an unapologetically American boy with his blonde hair slicked back like a rockabilly, and blue eyes that glow in the dim, golden light that reflects off the brass behind the tap handles. You sip at the beer you ordered, and you know you’re going home with him.
The wooden bar top is sticky with the residue of hundreds of drinks before, and the cardboard coaster beneath your beer is plastered in place. You don’t care though. You aren’t trying to sit …Read article
We here at Two Cities Review couldn’t be more excited about our newest venture, the Two Cities Review Podcast.
From the beginning of our magazine’s inception, we always knew we wanted to create a magazine that captured the complexity of modern urban life. That meant seeking out stories about bridging the gaps between dreams and reality, between geography and localness, between technology and human connection. We always wanted our magazine to be a media-rich publication, a digital experience that actually took advantage of its digital format. So a podcast was pretty much inevitable. The podcast as a form is experiencing …Read article
From the issue:
My wife said, “I reached across the bed for you.
I reached farther, farther, across the wide bed.
I tried to reach all the way to Africa.”
“Be careful you don’t fall off.
The world is square, you know.”
Just then, a half-grown cat, an older kitten,
a black and white tiger, on the thin side,
hurried across the tile floor of my room.
Appearing from nowhere, like a loving wife,
he must have jumped in through the window.
From issue 8:
I was twelve years old the summer my father helped our neighbor Victor Metzger tear down the old wood shed in his backyard. That was back when we lived in the Fairview section of Camden, New Jersey. The houses were row homes, and the yards quite small. Mr. Metzger’s shed took up half his yard before he and my father tore it down. After the junk man came by and took away the shed scraps, Mr. Metzger poured concrete over his entire backyard. When the concrete dried, our neighbor painted it kelly green. We lived …Read article
In this morning’s fall
rain, the houses across
from the cemetery
look more haunted
than their partners.
It’s a strange sort
of cold here,
the sky opening itself
like a confessional.
We’re out here driving,
thinking of calling home,
if it’s too late.
C.C. Russell lives in Wyoming with his wife and daughter. His writing has appeared here and there in print and online in such places as Rattle, Pearl, and kysoflash.com. This year he was nominated for Best of the Net and a Pushcart Prize. He can be found on Twitter @c_c_russell.…Read article
From the issue:
It was the morning after a snowstorm, when hours
are quieted by atmospheric baby-breaths,
a sublime nearness best with coffee—the sugaring season.
I pressed my hand into my coat pocket,
backpack light with everything
I had given up on,
and watched the snow descend, slowly and
without much fanfare,
on the dove gray dome of the cathedral.
Marshall Avenue is a crawl of headlights
and dark sedan curves, the windshield wipers
working through the white like
the dogged Minnesotans within, hardy souls
trying to reconcile all this cold
with all this beauty. A lamp-post bulb …Read article
Yet another year is coming to a close. For many of us, the dark, cold days of winter are a time for reflection on the past year and setting new goals for the year ahead. Here at Two Cities Review, we are no exception. It is hard to believe that this issue is already our 8th and marks the last issue of our second year of publication! As we take stock of all that we have accomplished in the past two years, we feel great pride in the quality of the work we showcase, …Read article