by Shannen Barrow Smoke and dust fill my lungs like silver needles edging on my itching throat. Now holding a blackened hand to my chest, burning. Every time I breathe in smoldering air, sweat sticks to my skin and blurry eyes. Tossing my head in sunken cotton threads, here my nightmares are unable to sleep as horns…
by Millie Sullivan That Which is Sweet Delia sat on the velvet settee, her back straight and her knees pressed together. The air was thick with the scent of citrus, undercut by cinnamon and a whisper of clove. Bowls of oranges—plump, dimpled—sat artfully arranged on the small coffee table before…
by Diane Webster I am a 69-year-old woman who sleeps on Garfield sheets. I am a 69-year-old woman who hangs a poster of a crabby cat that states, “I AM smiling!” I am a 69-year-old woman who has a samurai sword mounted above her bed and who no longer has to sleep with a kitchen knife resting on her night…