by Carol Casey The path is trodden, dusty, level.You know it will take youwhere many have gone. Step off—tangles of brambles,sometimes with blackberries,more often with little clawsthat catch on clothes and skin;and tortuous tree roots—inconvenient, sacred data unearthed—subterranean snakelets somehowsifted into snarls for feet to catch.There are stems that twine…
by Nancy Ford Dugan I was showing my driver’s license to my mother to prove I was her daughter when I looked out the window and saw two guys maneuvering a body with a plaid sheet over its face into an SUV. “Don’t be silly. You’re not Sally,” said my…
by Kim Venkataraman “Another bite of mashed potato?” “No, but I’ll have a bit more of the stew.” “Is it tasty?” I lift the spoon slowly, my hand cupped underneath. “The beef is tough as a boot but the broth is good.” I’m lying on the daybed on the…