Marjorie Maddox

Each dilapidated in a different way— half-patched roof, porch sagging, two sideboards painted five different shades of purple to test out for a season a choice that may cause any number of arguments— or not, nothing in this town requiring permanence or beauty except for what already is: red-breasted blackbird, deep-diving loons, a lake that […]

We want him gone— pretty boy fat with feasts and wine. Now he’s poor. Desert him! He chose his lot. As aging swine, we dare not share one crumb, least of all with him, whom we want gone. Split our scraps? God Almighty, it’s our home and up to us who joins this raucous feast. […]

I. Alfred Berg The eldest at fourteen, I took his place: Heinrich Steinberger, suddenly ill, too sick to flee Vienna. He did not survive the Holocaust. Heinrich Steinberger, suddenly ill— of the fifty chosen, the only one to stay. He did not survive the Holocaust. With my sister, I, instead, boarded the ship, among the […]

Marjorie Maddox imagines eschatology as a long, hard road.

In this poem, Marjorie Maddox considers the potential for salvation in catastrophe when we open our eyes to change.

In this short story, Marjorie Maddox provides an insightful and poetic look into the lives of people with masochistic pathologies, people who when “eating an apple [bite] right into the bruise” and can’t help but perpetuate relational and psychological self-harm.

Newspaper headline Somerset, PA This is the popular miracle to which we bow down, a gasp in our throats, thousands ready to weep, disbelief exhaling relief and not that dark mine of tragedy that keeps collapsing around this tunnel of a country. But there are other wonders too: untelevised, deeper down, the tap-tap-tapping left between […]