Author: admin

GIRLS’ LUNCH BY MILLY HELLER

Last week I took my mother to lunch with the girls. The girls range in age from eighty-five to ninety-three. They eat lunch the first Tuesday of every month at Mancusa’s, famous for its grilled oysters, on Napoleon Avenue. I...

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ON THE RUN BY LINDA LERNER

The owl flew in, like an emoji cutting through language, my daily complaints her, so, what’s keeping you here? If I said it was like living in the wild, trying to survive actually doing it year after year, the driving force...

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A WRONG TURN BY LINDA LERNER

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, so that I may climb thy golden stair. I’ve never posted photos of my younger self as others do, often mistaken for their daughters mistake I made seeing a beautiful girl on a flyer a woman...

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GOT A SITUATION HERE BY W GOODWIN

Listen up, Slick. Maybe you are accustomed to hanging out with imbeciles, but I’ve got a degree in literature and a fat measure of life experience to back-up the sheepskin. It’s not like I’m some granddaughter of Franz Kafka...

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SLEEPING OUTSIDE BY MAGGIE GRINNELL

Backyards, camping grounds, porches The perches of the owl on the tree branch The singing of the grasshoppers as they Rub their wings together The quietness, stillness The stairs, which looked newly finished The cold dewiness of...

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ONE WINDOW UNFOLDS THE RUINED STREETS

Do you know what this house can be without you, a box of doubt, an echo? Up what stairs by memory shimmed through what familiar dark do you and your pelt thick with the late hour lie down? How bitter will this night taste on the...

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MATCHSTICK TRICK BY LOUIS EFRON

A lost sideshow carney With thick, matted strands of obsidian hair China white skin Fixed inlaid coal-colored eyes Leathery layers of cooked skin Join the sleeves and neckline Of an over-stretched soiled t-shirt Like a lizard...

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NO MORE #2 PENCILS BY DANA KINSEY

Trains thunder through my veins. A thousand birthday candles flicker every wish there ever was. “We dwell in possibility” like Emily. I can’t turn from you or steady my gaze, so I crash into your rousing embrace. Your fingertips...

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AUTUMN ROSES BY WALLY SWIST

We stop to inhale           the fragrance of the clusters of petite red roses           in front of the Frary House on Main Street           in Old Deerfield, yellow-gold leaves loosened           in the wind from sycamores...

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