IMPERFECTION • by Rosanne Dingli
Did I tell you about the geranium I grew from a cutting? I stole it from someone’s front garden as I raced for a bus one day. This huge unruly bush — which someone should have pruned — spilled over… Continue Reading
Literary
TIE A RIBBON ON THE FAIRY TREE • by Rebecca Birch
If I ignore the door hanging half off its hinges and the swallow’s nest surveying the dust from beneath the exposed center beam, Nana’s cottage is little changed from fifteen years ago, when Dad left me here to “find my… Continue Reading
GREEN BEANS • by Dawn Muenchrath
I found it on the counter by the microwave, under a stack of yellowing envelopes. It was sticking to the bottom of the pile and I would have missed it altogether when I picked them up had it not leapt… Continue Reading
BREAKING BALL • by Michael Snyder
There’s this ball, pink-seamed and spinning fast, its coordinates locked on the northern perimeter of my left eye socket. All the proof I need that God hates me. No surprise, as my earthly father was never that fond of me… Continue Reading
A FEATHER’S EYE • by Kim Bundy
The people in charge seat me under some bright lights and put my painting on an easel. I meet Sebastian, an art expert, and my heart starts knocking. I’m thrilled to be chosen, to have something so special. That is,… Continue Reading
UNDER MY SKIN • by Joely Opie-Harris
(content warning: rape) I close my eyes and the quiet, black space around me is filled with you. Do you think of me too? I wonder if you do. Wonder if that night is still carved into your wrists, wriggling… Continue Reading
DO THEY DANCE CLOSE IN PARIS? • by Mick Bennett
Steeled for another Friday night gig behind the club’s horseshoe bar, Carol fashions fruit garnishes as DJ Danny and his tattoos play the usual songs. Between lemon twists and orange peels, familiar faces order a beer, a punch board, or… Continue Reading
I CAN LIFT ANY HEAVY BOX • by Dale Alexander
In my memory, my dad and I stand in the detached garage of that old farmhouse, the faded green one at the end of the long lane that runs past Woods Camp and the football field. The door is open,… Continue Reading
JAZZY, JACQUES BARZUN AND BASEBALL • by Ted Lietz
Jazzy had first learned English by reading and her vocabulary could sound strange to my American ears. Words like suitor, betrothal, nuptials. But when Jazzy meant love, that was the word she used. As in her final message, just before… Continue Reading
A WHITE (NEÉ FLYNN) CHRISTMAS • by Jamie Ryan Anderson
It didn’t snow this year, but it doesn’t matter. Mrs White (née Flynn) doesn’t like the snow anyway. It makes her joints flare up and she’s turning seventy next year, you know. She doesn’t need the bother. And anyway, the… Continue Reading