Salamander 2025 Fiction Contest

SUBMIT: May 1 through June 1, 2025 | READING FEE: $20

SUBMIT ENTRIES NOW

Death

poetry
  An unremarkable corner café—he sits across from you at a table where he has waited patient as a ruin all your life. Nothing is more   than symbol, even…

Landscape with Parallax

poetry
  Above the pecan grove, two curtains of rain, one turning purple, the other another of God’s interrogations, What makes you believe you are? Seen by the left eye, a…

What I Might Have Done

poetry
  Sleek starlings flying low ++++over whitecaps on the bay ++++++++++remind me of Ortygia,   so far from where I am, ++++exactly where I wish ++++++++++to stroll the white stones…

Time Capsule: Summer, 2001

poetry
  It’s night in a subdivision whose name fills your ears with forest, and you’re sitting in a gazebo whose ivied trellises you’ve never seen in this shade of streetlight,…

Manic Aubade

poetry
  Yes—cradle, then rain, sun, sand-box and rusted chain- link, baseball in the diamond by the playground, first base, first kiss, home plate, then heart- break, first house, black granite…

The Canal

poetry
tr. by Peter Brown and Caroline Talpe   Dark, veiled lamps. A dark milk Filtering through the stretched Membrane. In the canal Motionless water shines. A fine Cover of mist…

The Realm

poetry
Tr. from the French by Peter Brown and Caroline Talpe   The dawn instills its light into the blinds. I spread the slats and through the curved gap Observe the…

mnemonic

poetry
  It is sometimes necessary to walk barefoot along a moonlit riverbank on the sodden strip where water meets land to remind oneself that something in the mud remembers the…

Ode to a Potato Masher

poetry
  She who wields you gets a grip on her task and bears down to change one thing into another, like most everything used in the kitchen except for the…

To Bill Zavatsky

poetry
  Isn’t it my good fortune in this world On a day when there is enough bird seed in the feeder And it has warmed up enough for them to…

On the Indian River

poetry
  Cicadas taught me to speak in low humming before my mother taught me alphabet or verb— before I learned to bathe alone in the canal behind our house, my…

Harvey

poetry
  I am at home, watching a movie when you arrive unannounced, barely visible—your frame filling the unlit doorway.   I haven’t seen you in weeks—perhaps I’ve never seen you,…