Echolocation 1. Under a streetlight a rabbit splashes across a puddle surrounded by melting snow. 2. Pigeons spring into the sky blowing a circle of skittering leaves. 3. Muffled thuds of rocks knocked off a cliff pause over a lake to disclose the white dots of mountain goats. 4. Grasshoppers crackling above the wheatgrass and needle and thread camouflage the slower rattle, the quieter rattle that is the humming of the unhidden machine that runs everything.
Jeffrey Thompson was raised in Fargo, North Dakota, before it became a watchword for cool, and educated at the University of Iowa and Cornell Law School. He lives in Phoenix, Arizona, where he practices public interest law. His work has appeared or will appear in journals including North Dakota Quarterly, The Main Street Rag, Hole in the Head Review, The Tusculum Review, ONE ART, Maudlin House, Trampoline, Funicular, New World Writing Quarterly, and The Dodge His hobbies include reading, hiking, photography, listening to Leonard Cohen, and doom-scrolling the ruins of Twitter.
Amethyst Review 