Letting Go

In the wintery spring of 1945, World War II had ended but not the chaos and misery of its survivors. My mother received notice that her husband had been killed. She sought solace in the arms of the messenger, got pregnant, and remarried. The couple moved south looking for work. I was five years- old…

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The Lucky Few

It was blasphemous and immoral; they submitted to the thrumming rhythm of the ethereal emotions that curled beneath their rhapsodic boughs; it filled the cosmos between them with embryonic passion—the steps they took were almost predestined, as if they had been there before; the breaths they took were almost too heavy to be healthy; the…

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Pierce Brown

Johnny Appleseed   A myth, a mistake, raking sodden leaves into trodden ground feeling dirt sift beneath his weight; a nomad, a flake, an illustration in a children’s book planting the American dream, original sin; a sexist, a snake, sowing seeds into earthy wombs, throwing them to absent winds praying they catch, they root, they…

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Car Parts

Once, I asked my mother “What is the worst part of a car to break?”  She said it was the radio. Weeks passed since I inquired and the famous question why? taunted me more each  time I eyed her attend to the radio before the adjustment of her seat. Finally, I gave up on wasting…

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Timothy B. Dodd

The Wintry Wait to Work   A cold eight degrees at eight in the morning as a mourning dove perches on the telephone wire, Mona’s conversation with her new man running under its talons. I see   a shattered flowerpot, glazed with ice, lying in a lawn of discolored grass, the long and twisty roots…

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Seul

I think of my grandmother’s skin—warm creases, her hands rinsing off a peach, its hair smoothed from the softness of wellwater just eat from my hands, can you taste how ripe it is? I just picked it in the orchard this morning. Or the first day I met Rebecca in that cold café and how…

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