by Betsy Martin One sits reading, his face a meeting ground of several tectonic plates that collide to form his private himalayas. Another sits in the bedroom and sews. She tries to stitch past onto present by making for her daughter a pair of neon-orange- and-brown checked bell-bottoms, this being…
by James Jackson Sweet-suckled Slovenian lips– Cleveland where I found you, Columbus were you lost. Some days a black blanket we would lay under to seek stars seeking something cold & how our temperatures dropped over the years. We’d burn nights matchstick young, whiskey and coke, peel clothes to cool–…
by Mindy Farmer Dear Dad, Grief came to me this morning. Not like it was yesterday. Not like 14 numbed by my reality – An unimaginable future without you. No, grief knocked softly, gracefully sitting beside me; Contemplation in a cup of tea. I wish I could offer her a…
by Emily Graham Nestled in the countryside of a sleepy, north-eastern town, Sat a simple- little house on a hill. The long, stone driveway was framed by uncut grass and pine trees. Rundown buildings dotted the empty field. The sun had begun his weary decent to the horizon When the…
by Steve Force Carola awoke just as dawn was breaking. She could hear Cesar, her husband, on the other side of the curtain that separated the sleeping area from the rest of their one room home. He was moving about in the cooking area. She could smell the strong dark…
by Lysette Cohen Dusk had begun to fall as I stepped into my grandmother’s bedroom. Her bed was empty now, but I could still see her tiny frame in peaceful slumber, her chest barely moving the brightly crocheted quilt as she breathed in small puffs. On the dresser, a lone…
by Gil Hoy I had a nightmare last night A nightmare deeply rooted in an American nightmare Where churches and schools theaters and city streets were dying Where military weapons were firing into unsuspecting innocent crowds Tentwentythirtyfortyfifty pigeons intheblinkofaneye I awoke in a terrified sweat as bleeding children wailed and cried and screamed…
by Mike Cohen First of all, I have to thank Mrs. Popkin. I mean, Alice. I know, I know. I’ll try not to do that again, Alice. But it’s hard to call someone Alice who drove you to Hebrew class, not to mention dancing lessons, when you were a little…
by Casey Dare the smooth bore, breech-loaded, single barrel shotgun bangs an answer to the whispered questions— why do they fight? why does mama cry? is he still hitting her? Why won’t someone help us? cold December night lit by lights on the evergreen trees, blues reds whites blinking…
by Robert Scott Because he was afraid, John Kirk Ormsby, the new managing overseer to that great patch of fertile North Carolina land known as Excelsior Plantation, had passed the night in his office and not at home comfortably in his wife’s good bed. The whitewashed mill office was dimly…