Part I The apartment had a view down the slope of Seattle’s Capitol Hill. My windows showed several square acres of warehouses roofs and other apartment buildings. It was as if I lived in the nose-bleed section of the bleachers, and these buildings slouched down in their seats watching the freeway. My elegant brick building … More Undergrowth
He Crawled in through Her Open Window and They Made Love All Afternoon He crawled in through her open window and they made love all afternoon On the ancient linen sheets her auntie gave her when she graduated at 18 Just before she drove away to work in the packing plant her brother said was … More Three with Ridiculously Long Titles
by Mallory Clarke Getting Clued: Nine Years Old A boy, taller than me, leans into my face and asks, “Are you that girl, last name Clark?” It’s 1962 and my mom, dad, two sisters and I have moved into a house in west Seattle. I’m going to a two-story brick school with acres of play … More New Orleans
by Mallory Clarke Shining silver bodies arcing up into the air, they seem like giant scaled fingers reaching upstream, clawing over riffles and cascades, dying to reach their spawning grounds. Salmon are our region’s silver wealth. Body by single body, they hoist nutrients from the sea up the sides of mountains where bears, trees, and … More Dead Fish
by Mallory Clarke Recently, I ran my hand through the fur of a living cougar. I almost cried, he was so achingly beautiful. He was asleep, comfortably drugged, and had just contributed about 60 minutes to science aimed at saving his species. I felt the same ache on the early morning the wild wolves howled … More Nature: The Disreputable Parts
by Mallory Clarke When I was 22, a coworker called me a shrew. It’s true he was a little drunk at the time, but back then any woman who took a leadership role, (and I was technically his boss,) got called that and worse. This was in the early 70s, and typical mockery included “harpy,” … More A Bluff Charge Needn’t Be Large
by Mallory Clarke It was 10 o’clock on a wet November night, and I was peaceably leaning over the kitchen sink washing dishes in the dark when my roommates burst in, flicked on the light, and startled me within an inch of a heart attack. Of course, they thought this was funny. My custom is … More Mole Woman
by Mallory Clarke To follow crows, you gather up a friendly co-pilot, and a reliable car. You pack a snack and an openness to awe. You leave your sad house and the source of your sadness, and forget for a while that in the beginning you freely agreed to marry that sadness. Be ready for … More For a Year, I Followed Crows
by Mallory Clarke The steady rain soaked into my wool socks. My boots made that slush slush sound they do when you don’t come armored sufficiently for late May in the Northwest. I had parked my truck on the edge of Old Mill Road and gotten out. It’s not a road for the faint of … More Pseuduacris Ragilla: Frog of Steel
by Mallory Clarke There are creatures who survive through learning the rules and never deviating from them. Eat only ants. Never build a nest below 20 feet off the ground. Never date someone who doesn’t go to your church. Others persist on the landscape through investigating the possibilities. Do you think I could eat this … More On Becoming a Chickadee
