We were transplanted Pennsylvanians who understood the value of fresh fruit. The rental house had lemons, oranges, tangelos, loquats, figs. My mother let me take the bedroom that faced the orchard. I saw him the second week. It was the middle of summer. He lay on a striped beach towel between our two yards, nearContinue reading “California Fruit by Meg Pokrass”
Tag Archives: Writing
How to Leave Without Saying Goodbye by Kristin Tenor
Remember that afternoon you asked me to be your accomplice, your getaway driver, your ticket to freedom? Side by side in the front of your rusted Chevrolet—I, at the wheel and you, your parchment-thin eyelids closed in a state of ecstasy as the breeze caressed the downy fuzz upon your naked scalp. The musk ofContinue reading “How to Leave Without Saying Goodbye by Kristin Tenor”
Erosion by Susan Hall
“Do you think our boy’s losing some things?” my husband asks. His casual tone belies the gravity of the question. After a thirteen-year remission, our son’s seizures had returned. This–whether or not he was slipping cognitively–had been the rarely-spoken-of yardstick against which we’d measured the seriousness of these now frequent movements, these long momentsContinue reading “Erosion by Susan Hall”
quīnquāgintā sex by Riley Winchester
i My mother looks for my father every day. Depending on who you ask, he’s in different places. He’s not lost, he hasn’t run away, he hasn’t disappeared. It’s a different kind of search. My mother looks for my father every day not in body but in spirit. She’s been looking for over five yearsContinue reading “quīnquāgintā sex by Riley Winchester”
The Years Go By in Single File by Roberta Beary
Maybe behind your house was a rock garden where you ran when your mother shooed you away where you loved the rosebush but hated the thorns and always the bees buzzing a secret you didn’t know but still it made you cry in the cubbyhole under the stairs where you could hear in the kitchenContinue reading “The Years Go By in Single File by Roberta Beary”