The Weight of Light by David Luntz

The weight of light can be measured by my uncle Kev’s death. But before that, some memories: it’s family dinner and uncle Kev’s explaining how the bread mashed in his ex-boxer’s, sixty-year-old fist represents Pangea and the glass of wine in his fingers the Tethys Sea. He’s telling us about the earth’s history, Wegener’s theoryContinue reading “The Weight of Light by David Luntz”

Two Micro Memoirs by Beth Ann Fennelly

Heating and Cooling The A/C won’t work, so I call a repairman. His name, he tells me at the door, isMatthew. I lead him to the office we added on ten years ago—it has a separatesystem—and point out the little trapdoor in the ceiling. He’s up there a long, long time, and when he findsContinue reading “Two Micro Memoirs by Beth Ann Fennelly”

Cannibals by L Mari Harris

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”

Two Micros by Maura Alia Badji

Benediction   All day I snap fresh sheets over antique beds, carry cart-loads of snowy towels still warm from the basement laundry, stop long enough to catch breeze from a window above Mohonk lake. All rooms must be done by three. Sweat streaks my legs, clings the green polyester uniform to breasts and back. I haul my cart from roomContinue reading “Two Micros by Maura Alia Badji”

Making It Back to Shore with No Sign of Your Footsteps in the Sand—or Sight of You on the Horizon by Keith Hoerner

I. I stand in water. It sloshes ’round my scuffed black leather wingtips, laps up the ankles of my rumpled dress slacks, turns khaki to the color of murky brown. Onlookers furrow their brows, incredulous that I do not see I am in danger of drowning, that if I don’t make a move for it,Continue reading “Making It Back to Shore with No Sign of Your Footsteps in the Sand—or Sight of You on the Horizon by Keith Hoerner”

Evening Out the Sides by Susan Triemert

There was a time when my children were orphans. There was a time before I became one. My younger son and I were never orphans at the same time; we missed an overlap by seven months. He was gaining parents while I was losing mine. When I adopted Jack months before my mother died, IContinue reading “Evening Out the Sides by Susan Triemert”