by Allison Cross I was planted on the day you were born. Cerulean blue etched the clouds, contrails slashed it through. A breeze brushed against spring. My roots were a tangled, constricted ball, and it hurt when your father plunged me in the hole. When he piled the soil around…
by Birgit Lennertz Sarrimanolis In January the mercury plummeted well below zero. The frozen world remained in a still, crackling, almost surreal state for some time. Hoarfrost hung thickly on the stark branches of trees, fuzzy and soft-looking in the crisp, clear air. In the living room, beside the crackling…
by Michael McGrath At the start of the 1983 school year, after having failed to land a suitable teaching position following my graduation from university, I approached the high school where I’d been a student teacher about the possibility of volunteering as a coach. Because of my job at a…