Every hour we shed 30,000 skin cells. Some we’ll swallow back down, like an auto-cannibalism. Some won’t be ours, but they’ll settle in and stay. It’ll look like a place called home among the bronchi and the bronchioles, the ligaments and the tendons, the red and the yellow marrow. It’ll look like rooms called family,Continue reading “Cannibals by L Mari Harris”
Monthly Archives: December 2022
Salt by Abby Alten Schwartz
1. Our teacher sends us home with slips of paper reminding us that tomorrow is soft pretzel day, ten cents apiece. After the sale we converge on the folding tables in the school yard, pressing fingertips wet from our mouths into the tiny cubes of salt that litter the surface, licking them clean. 2.Continue reading “Salt by Abby Alten Schwartz”
Motherhood (Or Lack Thereof) by Maegan Gwaltney
My two small nephews and tiny niece climbed out of the couch cushion fortress on the bedroom floor. As the first sliver of sunlight whispered through the blinds, they jumped around me on the bed, shouting the details of their dreams. I was in my early twenties and loved my older sister’s kids- the weaselsContinue reading “Motherhood (Or Lack Thereof) by Maegan Gwaltney”
Driving & Crying by Steve Edwards
There I am, 24, crying my eyes out at the stoplight at 9th & Main, crossing the Tapawingo Bridge and beating the steering wheel. There’s my car — a gold Saturn. The one the salesman kneed hard to prove its side-panels wouldn’t dent. As I remember it, the problem was that I wanted everything backContinue reading “Driving & Crying by Steve Edwards”
SugarSugarSalt Magazine 