About Zane by Celesté Cosme

Mrs. Johnson, I received your message on my answering machine concerning Zane’s tardies and absences. I’ve talked with him about missing the bus. I go to sleep around 8 P.M. most evenings and though I tell Zane to go to sleep soon after, I know […]

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Still Life by Lucy Goldring

I gift you a fruit bowl to say ‘Happy New Home’.  To my boys? No. Practise this: to my son and his father. The underside is lacquered red; only the cradle bares the grain. Your eyebrows rise-fall-rise as you consider the bowl, the motherly gesture.  […]

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Daylight Savings by Kelle Schillaci Clarke

Tomorrow, her phone’s weather app predicts a thirty percent chance of rain at 9 a.m., sixty percent by 10 a.m., and one hundred percent between the hours of eleven and two. She’s willing to accept the iffiness of the morning hours, placing her and her […]


Back to Milwaukee by Linda McMullen

Ellen unclasps her American flag pin from her blazer, and tucks it into her purse; she glides into a bathroom stall where the pantsuit and heels come off, and she resumes her jeans, sneakers, and flannel. They’re a size too large, now. She hails a cab. En route […]

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Blue Ghosts by Margaret LaFleur

The boys stopped calling after their mother died. It was only Hope that kept up the tradition, sitting down with a cup of coffee and dialing her childhood phone number as she watched steam curl above her mug. If her father was back from church […]

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Snowball by Caroljean Gavin

It all happened when the polar bear chased me to the end of the glacier and I was so, so frightened to leap in the icy waters. You see, I had no faith left to leap with. Just a heart that was somehow still warm, […]

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How to Sit by Jemimah Wei

For much of the past year, I have been obsessed with sitting. How to do it, for how long, in what permutations.  Currently, I sit by the corner of the dining table to write. My legs are splayed open at a 90-degree angle, perpendicular to […]

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At the Wawa by Jules Archer

We were drunk at the Wawa, how embarrassing, but also exhilarating. You and I, fifteen, pinkie-sworn BFFs, wrists corded with neon bracelets, black chipped nail polish, maybe we had braces, I’ll never tell (again too embarrassing), but then you shot gunned a beer in the […]

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Toasting and Weighting Ash by Jane Ayres

Toasting Each doorstep-thick slice impaled on a long fork licked by flickering orange flames, I toast bread over an open fire while Nan fetches butter from the pantry meat-safe. Cut from stoic cloth, she raised fifteen children in this tiny house, witnessed two World Wars […]

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