'Chickenshits' by Jay Parr

She drops her sundress at her feet in the still night air, calls us boys a bunch of chickenshits, dives ghost-naked off the quarry's lip, and pounds a moonlight bullet hole in the black-glass water below.

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Jay Parr (he/they) lives in the NC Piedmont, and teaches fun stuff like banned books, othered voices—and a whole-ass class about Frankenstein—in the nontraditional online humanities program at UNCG.