Category: Contests

55.2 Contest Winners

PoetryWinner: Ignite by Daniel Lurie From a wellspring of great choices I have selected “Ignite” by Daniel Lurie as the winner of Phoebe: A Journal of Literature and Art’s Spring Contest. With...

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Yellow

T.C. Martin2026 Nonfiction Spring Contest Winner Today you are thinking that to be fat is to feel an inscrutable connection to the color yellow. It was there, on the side. In a little white ceramic...

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Ignite

Daniel Lurie2026 Poetry Spring Contest Winner There’s nothing as lonely as the long claw of a train horn.  Like a tail, three boxcars trail in its wake, the first stuffed  with spotted loons...

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54.2

2025 Spring Fiction Contest Winner Two Burials by Jumaana Abdu 2025 Spring Nonfiction Contest Winner Notes on Property by Esther Ra 2025 Spring Poetry Contest Winner Bestiary by Seth Peterson Read...

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54.2 Contest Winners

Poetry Judge: Corey Van Landingham Winner: Bestiary by Seth Peterson “Bestiary” captures the wonderfully mythical world created through a six-year-old’s imagination, as well as the gravity of a...

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Teacher Bird: or Meditations on Phoebe

Alison Granucci When out of the great cosmos of all creation a bird arrives as the new shape of your mother returning from the dead, tell me, what does it not have to teach about the nature...

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In Martinsville (2021)

Chanlee Luu a church on nearly every block: Baptist, Catholic, Presbyterian, Methodist, Evangelical. She doesn’t know the difference; what she does remember is the Bible quotes inserted—editing...

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Robert de Niro

Phoebe Phelps I fell in love when I was twenty-nine and he was thirty-two, a respectable age difference. Preferable, actually, because they say men mature more slowly than women. And just in time...

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Discount Tobacco, Cold Beer Cave

Samuel Ellington And the barn on my left reads get right with God. There’s a gravel-road token that we can make home. Cut grass, gasoline, and I laughed when they told me the Lord is three...

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Sometimes he calls out for Baby. Sometimes Baby runs

Sara Burge down our street screaming, his voice chasing like a pissy wasp. Sometimes he’s an Apache helicopter. Sometimes Baby’s a mouse on a rug. Sometimes their fights are a riff on last...

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