Walking the Highway Back Into Town by James Owens --Michigan City, Indiana., July, 2015 Insects unstitch bodies in the weeds: a possum on its back, the pads of its feet turned up pink, an infant's supplicant palms; a fresher possum, draped with a fertile tangle of black and green flies; a raccoon simplified by heat and time to a tattered pelt and a snarl twisted to bite the tires that killed it. Drivers honk or yell, not to warn but telling the happy news that they are riding --- traffic from the casino that simmers with money like fortunate blood --- while others trudge in sweat and mosquitoes, among the slain, displaced and liable to damage. Then the poor streets. Young men glare, astonished by their own rage. Sticky children plague a sulking, blotch-faced woman who clouts one from a chipped porch. The white-haired, drunken man spilling helpless as ashes from his raveled suit wants to talk about sto
Flying Island is the Online Literary Journal of the Indiana Writers Center, accepting submissions from Midwest residents and those with significant ties to the Midwest.