Author: admin

SCENE BY JOANNA WHITE

Pardon our dust, excuses the hospital lobby, my son and I (here for flu shots) directed to a makeshift fourth-floor lab. Stepping off the elevator to a humming nurses’ station, we eye doorways triangled open down the corridor....

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FROM MY PLACE IN THE ORCHESTRA BY JOANNA WHITE

Here is a chair; there a music stand–– atop its ledge, a scribbled map of what we will become. And who is the first to grace the stage? Lady of the amber harp, her spike heels anchored, her toes tapping the pedals. The twang and...

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BREAKFAST RIDE BY JOANNA WHITE

At dawn’s pink tinge we heard the bell, unzipped from sleeping bags to pull ourselves from bunks, iced feet to planks, donning sweatshirts. The cabin door banged as we ran to climb the corral fence, perched and watched the...

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BEFORE AFTER BY LOIS MARIE HARROD

You did not imagine rising in the dark,  slipping on the hardwood, falling. You must have tripped over the book you were reading before you slept or was it your wobbly ankle? You did not know how alone you would feel sprawled at...

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MY FATHER’S FIXES BY LOIS MARIE HARROD

Whatever flailed or failed, he tried to fix with rubber bands and wire, nails and splints— clothesline pulley, oven door, typewriter, rake toilet float, furnace door, throttle, drain, and I too have tried to keep the world in...

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STANDING AT THE DOOR BY LOIS MARIE HARROD

watching you leave, I fear the distance you must travel. So I wait while you fiddle with starting the car— all the things you do— shuffle out of your coat, adjust the mirrors. I remain at the door if it is cold like today, 14...

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AS FOR EMPATHY BY LOIS MARIE HARROD

The clouds are generous, always forgiving who they were and who they become, and water likewise, knowing its certain way through the most circuitous crevice to the all-accepting sea, but I am not sure I know how to fill...

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STEPPING OFF INTO SPACE BY DEBORAH ANN PERCY

While Willie watched football on a Sunday afternoon, Annette went to the grocery store because they were both on a diet and there was nothing safe to eat in the house, “Life is a diet,” Willie said. “It is if you want to keep...

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ON PARENTS BY MARY ANN LARKIN

One summer night decades after I had begun the perilous job of raising my children, I was having dinner by the sea with two beloved friends. We were speaking, not of ourselves as parents, but about our own parents. Both my...

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