by Jess Earl Mama told me that thunder is just the sound of angels bowling. The angel outside my window doesn’t have hands but maybe it just can’t bowl, like how Katie can’t eat peanut butter. The angel doesn’t look like the ones in Mama’s paintings; it looks like a…
by Emily Marcason-Tolmie Their suitcases were stacked like puzzle pieces in the far reaches of the car. Bridget and her younger sister, Lucy, sat in the back seat with their heads slightly touching. Lucy flipped through one of her mother’s fashion magazines circling all the dresses she thought were pretty…
by Jane Finlayson Nicky peels the skin off the chicken in one slick move, like she’s undressing some squirmy little kid before it makes a getaway. “Stay put, you twisted bag of bones,” she hisses, holding the bird upright and slapping onion halves and rosemary into the cavity before wrestling…
by Jeff Eyssallenne A lazy lake under wandering ripples A breeze that startles the grass Faraway screams from happy children Rhythmic rushes from cars passing nearby Busy birds calling to each other A rock plopping into the lake makes me open a reluctant eye to see A young boy A…