Like Birds, We Will Fly Away by Amy Foster Myer My grandson called in the middle of the night, incoherent. Before I had the phone to my ear, he was already talking like we were in the middle of a conversation, his voice one jumbled note, long and low. I...
Deployment by Asha Dore At the dock, which is really a concrete platform edging into the Atlantic, hard blue waves whip up sending a pale mist across naked ankles or nude hose or the hems of stark white pants. Some of the other families have hired photographers...
Spirits of the Motherland by Jim Davis Xena Warrior Princess with an iron bra sprays Downy wrinkle release on khakis & I say thank you. I am gentle. There’s a little nipple on my new pen so I can draw on my intelligent pad, 15 dreams of when I was a violent...
The Elm by Chris Campanioni This is a story that doesn’t end well. It doesn’t begin well either. I received the first suicide letter in 2014. Maybe it was a year earlier. Maybe it was 2015. You hardly know me, the notes often began, but I feel as if I know you...
The Search Function by Adrienne Brock Sam had asked what my favorite subject in school had been one night in our bed. “History,” I said. “Only it wasn’t called that. It was always ‘social studies’ or ‘civics.’” He was shocked. Genuinely shocked. But I do. I...
