May 28, 2021 - By Edward Clifford I gave the devil a massage in broad daylight on hot summer grass. Skin on my palms began to burn and melt. Agony can feel good when it's wrong. His moaning lulled me, kept me in the dark place. We didn't dance but I assumed his pleasure formed inside me. —from "What the Masseuse Finds in the Backyard," from Volume 62, Issue 1 (Spring 2021) Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote. The first thing I wrote was a short story in grade school about a boy who was lost. I started writing poetry in middle school and then in high school I became more serious about it and was encouraged by my English teacher to write more.