Robert Estep

Like a victor stripping off his mundial glory, dropping his poker-face and slouching from his…

First a compass, so as to know where one is. Vibrant red needle behind the…

Regret has its season and sadness its domain. Hedges murmur with trapped thunder, a scutter…

How the sky seems to falter, revealing a slight delay, as if inadequately rehearsed, as…

And the smell of saltwater screened by the scent of orange and the air a…

Addition and subtraction were the Our Father, multiplication and division the Hail Mary of the…

In five months’ time the red-faced nun will strike him as pretty, but at this…

Stepping off the sandy shell-sharp shelf into a current that could bear one north to…

Never before had the sun expelled him with such certainty. Never before had the words…

Here is the thing much thought about, here is the thing much practiced. Lips against…