by Adeline Macdonald Clean steam iron the linen sheets, white and crisp and beautiful and without fault or fold White walls upon white walls with nothing to upset you or hurt you or make you cry or want to leave or want to think Do you love it? Is it…
by Catharine Lucas I move a vase from mantel to table; its cool weight clings to my hands. I practice seeing things in unfamiliar places—or nowhere at all. Is this one you’ll take away? I empty cupboards, six cans of chicken broth. Should probably keep these; might cook myself the…