Motherhood is A Bright Torture By Stephanie Bryant Anderson I have stood at the gates in Leningrad for 17 months with all of Russia’s mothers. We have begged from ground built by bones of the dead. Lev, I was not meant to be your mother, though I have loved you…
By Tina Rego I hear your voice without a pain in my chest my ears are over you I see your face without hurting inside my eyes are over you I smell your cologne without remembering you my nose is over you I remember your touch without dying inside my…
By Michael Finn A Grandma punched another Grandma In the face. She knocked her down And made her bleed Profusely. She did it for Love. Twisted horns jutted beneath crusty scalp. Grandma’s piercing, shrilling, thundered, “Stay Down you old bitch!” Grandma’s crucifix flipped upside down…
By Amy Fontenot Mother checked her lipstick in the rear-view mirror as we pulled to a stop at the red light. We’ve driven hours to Atlanta so that we wouldn’t run into my mother’s social circle. My stomach churned again, either from the nerves or the hormones. Mother glanced with contempt at my small…
By Alex Scarelli Abby told me she had Stage IV breast cancer. There would be no miracle cure, no last minute turnaround. She would die in six months, three if she declined evasive medication. Sitting across from one another in the kitchen of our apartment, still dressed in pajamas and…
By William Worsham I have spent most of the meaningful years of my life being a father. So I only do what I know. I tell you, “Go this way!” Or that. You go your imprudent way through subsistence somehow despite me. You drift along, a leaf upon a sidewalk…
By Lynn Vroman “So, do you like the place?” Frank unbuttoned his suit jacket and leaned back against the dainty chair. “It’s a bit pricey, don’t ya think?” The sound of violins filled the dim room as waiters dressed in tuxedos pranced between the tables of diners. “Well, yeah, but…
By Amanda Paulger The lights lit up the sky, some vast darkness carrying the sounds of stars over the ocean like the ghostly antithetical cries of sirens, lost in the crash of waves. On the backs of those wanderers that climbed up the vast cliffs that rose up over the…
By Leila Fortier It is always with me Where I do not know~ Stuck in the Forefront of afterthought~ On the outskirts Of unformed memory~ And I, of the midnight asking~ Nighting of the unanswered~ This brothel of existence~ No longer of you or I- but of poetry~ Sprouting accents…
By April Garcia Middle class. Trailer trash. Stay-at-home mom. If staying home to raise my son, the noblest of all arts, deems me ignorant– then ignorance is bliss. Narrow-minded. Success-blinded. Workin’ for the man. You slave away, –9 to 5 I work 24/7 shaping the mind of an innocent young…