by Kate McCorkle We are in the prescription drop-off line at CVS, which, after 6 p.m. on a weekday, is several people deep. My eight-year-old, Lizzie, has a severe ear infection. She is stoic and in extreme pain. The mean pharmacist is behind the counter. I once left the line…
by Tracey Loscar The porch is a magical place. It is far and away the best feature of this house. Small and screened in on three sides, it is cool in the morning and fully lit in the afternoon sun. This was by design, as my grandmother loved to read…
by Naomi Ruth Lowinsky We’re in the dark again, on uneven ground, where only shadows know the way. Your breath is my compass; your hand is the North Star. What have we stumbled into? Stag’s skull crowns a tent of bones. We are to sleep here. Remember the stag in…
By Naomi Ruth Lowinsky “I’m a green-and-yellow basket case,” you tell me, shuffling from bathroom to bedroom and back. We lean on each other, laughing. The basket weaver of the stars sent you to me, my green man, my pollen, my salmon leaping upriver. A tisket, a tasket, we’re in…
by Ann Minoff like my mother when I eat food remains on the corners of the mouth most fingers and pants especially the black pair I wear all the time, crumbs on the chair and floor she wore animal prints leopard spots on her blouses skirts, pants, and shoes, even…
by Tammye Huf “Did you burn your mouth?” “What? No.” My hand flew instinctively to grope at my mouth, searching for my injury. “You’ve got a white spot right there.” Kevin bent in and gently kissed the corner of my mouth. It didn’t hurt, my burn, so I kissed him…
by Timothy Caldwell Lightning strikes in the distance. He begins counting, “One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three, one thousand four…” Thunder arrives. “The storm is four miles away, Grandpa. That’s what Daddy taught me,” he says. “That’s right,” I say, as the clouds suck more afternoon sunlight…
by Barb Ariel Cohen The uncomfortable world waiting Beneath my breastbone, held Like stale breath, while the truth is this: A world blooms dancing at my every glance The old captivities die hard Resist yielding, lace themselves into My tight-fisted hands with cloying insistence Hoard tears behind my eyes…
by Marc Tretin Because the cake they bought for me had two breasts with cherry nipples, I felt understood by my staff. I was really impressed with its icing, “Welcome Back to Girlhood, And Fuck This Job’s Cheap Health Insurance.” I put two party balloons under my blouse then popped…
by Michael C. Keith There is something about poverty that smells like death. Dead dreams dropping off the heart like leaves in the dry season and rotting around the feet. …