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Leaving Well Enough Alone by Sandra Ramos O'Briant
He was a goofy-looking towhead with braces on his teeth. We were the same height at the beginning of the year, and had the same sense of humor. Giggling and passing notes in class, we were part of a silly group — the crack-ups. I invited him to Sadie Hawkins and he invited me to the prom... Who Am I? by Kira Reoutt
Who am I? Ruled by the sun, I have a taste for
anything shiny, beautiful and expensive. Sour Saturn
in the eighth house disfavors affairs of the heart,
but practical Virgo in the second promises
materialistic rewards. Papa is an artist with paint
and brush, Mama a genius with trowel and shovel. Mama
is a beatnik intellectual who emphasizes the value of
the dollar... The Marriage Wheel by Mary Lourdes Silva
You could not see mother's back curved like a scythe as she bent down, tearing weeds and words of anger rehearsed only for the privacy of her mind. You could not see hands planted deep into the soil, and sweat falling like a bunch of grapes yanked from its vine. You, who will not understand a word of this. Ten years she waited under the sun, ten years for a pool of wrinkles to ripple past the stones in her eyes... Expectations by Peggy Vincent
Oakland street, urban neighborhood, cigarette butts and used condoms in the
gutter alongside the amber shards of a broken whiskey bottle. Black man
straight ahead, jukin' and jivin' and snapping his fingers. Skinny guy,
loose black pants, white shirt unbuttoned at the neck, no tie. Walking along
all jangly, big grin, bright eyes... Fabric by Dianne McKnight
My father failed in business in the 1950’s when Dutch Elm Disease killed the elm trees in our Kansas town. He owned a fabric store on a brick street lined on both sides by elms, the doomed trees that transformed little Midwestern towns into magical, benevolent kingdoms and sidewalks and yards into leafy bowers. The elms shaded whole houses in deep green... Once and Again by A. Leigh Jones
So, old friend, tell me something, now that you've written to me out of the
blue. Yes, tell me something, anything, it doesn't matter what, it's been so
long since we stayed up all night and there's so much I don't know. You
first, but I promise I'll tell you something in return, something good,
yeah? Something interesting, something you'll care about, something I care
about, too... Parable of a Fig Tree by Jennifer Busick
The little potted tree my mother-in-law sent me was overheated, dried out, crawling with bugs, and nearly dead when it arrived. She had bought it on clearance at a Wal-Mart in southern Indiana, and sent it to Indianapolis by way of my father-in-law. He put it in the back floorboard of his car, where it sat forgotten in the late summer heat for several days before he thought to give it to me... Unspoken Words by Wayne Scheer
When my father was diagnosed with colon cancer, it had already spread to his
lymph nodes. Surgery was scheduled, but we were told from the onset that the
cancer would likely reoccur...
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