Clutter by Trudy Hale

Photo of stack of letters and papers
 

When my late husband set out to write his memoir he purchased Life As Story, by Tristine Rainer. He studied the book’s exercises and wrote in the margins. I want to read his annotations again. Feel the swoop of his pen; reacquaint myself with his responses to the memoir exercises. I have a distinct recollection of black ink on a cream page. Whole sentences, paragraphs filling the margins. I pull the book from my shelf and peer inside. There are none of the annotations I remembered. Instead, a few underlines and a small circle within … Continue reading Clutter by Trudy Hale

Then We had Ice Cream by Isabel Wolf Frischman

Photo of black man on bench that says "Whites Only"
 

In the summer of 1967, the year of my high school graduation, the Newark, N.J.-adjacent town of Plainfield, where I grew up, exploded with race riots. I was in Washington, D.C. when it happened, working as a G-2 clerk-typist for the U.S. Post Office. I didn’t witness the events in my hometown, where an incident in a diner escalated into full-blown violence in reaction to police brutality against people of color. Fifty-one years later, as an officer handcuffed me for attempting to drape the crown of Queen Isabella of Spain with a foot-square piece of … Continue reading Then We had Ice Cream by Isabel Wolf Frischman

Mourning Doves by Nate Jacob

Photo of dove on branch
 

Nate Jacob has earned an Honorable Mention in Streetlight’s 2021 Poetry Contest Mourning Doves Looking back, the choice seems obvious. A man is given the chance in life to select from a pantheon of plumed angels which will carry his tune forever on winds. My father, from what I can only imagine was a young age, took to mimicking the mourning dove with two gentle hands cupped just so together and a breath gently pressed from pursed lips: two poofs, he blew . . . and blew . . . and blew He taught that … Continue reading Mourning Doves by Nate Jacob

We’re Celebrating by Susan Shafarzek

Photo of fireworks
 

The 2022 Streetlight Essay/Memoir contest has concluded. I’m happy to announce our winners: Betty Wilkins, Catherine Childress and Susan Valas. All three essay impressed our judges with their strength of narrative and their ability to deal with issues that are often hard to encompass. Betty Wilkins, our first prize winner, won honorable mention winner from Streetlight last year, with her essay “Hudy’s Secret Recipe” which appeared in the Fall 2021 quarter of Streetlight. We’re especially glad to see her work again (the contest is judged blind, of course, so imagine our pleased surprise). She’s almost … Continue reading We’re Celebrating by Susan Shafarzek

Dear Mi-Kwon by Elizabeth Nowak

Photo of red house on top of hill
 

Elizabeth Nowak has earned an Honorable Mention in Streetlight’s 2021 Poetry Contest Dear Mi-Kwon Before the whole world went mad, you wrote to ask about my life in beautiful America. I could not then describe in words we both know how gray the sky is. There is little these days except skinny arms passing money and brown bags through a hole in the wall of the Big Red Liquor store. I’ve grown sick watching it and the chitter of birds outside my window. I am thinking often of that day in spring when you took … Continue reading Dear Mi-Kwon by Elizabeth Nowak

Reni Gower Shows at Chroma Projects


 

  My work is inspired by sacred geometry, which is thought to convey sacred and universal truths by reflecting the fractal interconnections of the natural world. By reiterating these ratios, my work unlocks the language of abstraction through the collective recognition of geometric perfection that is evident in ethnic patterns all around the world. This commonality creates connections. As such, my work is a perfect conduit for cross-cultural conversations that embrace our shared humanity through mindfulness and mutual respect. My research actively explores the physicality of materials and the haptic through intense process-based abstraction. Whether … Continue reading Reni Gower Shows at Chroma Projects

Cats by Christine Tucker

Black and white photo of baby hands holding adult hand
 

  Hey, son. It’s your Mama. Hope y’all are doing good up there. I’m callin’ cause I’ve got a little problem here. So, did you hear about that storm we had a couple days ago, that derecho? Well, none of us had ever heard of one before, either. It was a perfectly nice day and then the wind starts a blowin’ and sounding like a big ‘ole freight train. The trees in the front yard were all bent over double. I’m telling you, it was like the end of days—I never heard such a noise … Continue reading Cats by Christine Tucker

Forgive Me by Zeina Azzam

Photo of young woman
 

Zeina Azzam has earned an Honorable Mention in Streetlight’s 2021 Poetry Contest Forgive Me For lying to the teacher in the school yard Talking ill of my friend behind her back For making an excuse to leave early while visiting my mother in her sick bed For walking away from a lover without explanation, running from remorse I have felt guilty about slapping my small son’s hand so many years ago About acting impatient, bitter, callous, spiteful, unfriendly, or mean with those I love and those I don’t. These thoughts return often like mosquitoes in … Continue reading Forgive Me by Zeina Azzam

Stupid Old Oak Tree by Kathleen McKitty Harris

Close up photo of tree bark
 

  It’s just a stupid old oak tree, I keep telling myself, while I sit at the kitchen table and watch the white winter sunlight bathing its branches. It’s dying, I say, as I wipe away tears and busy myself with numbing, necessary tasks. Its branches are dropping and it’s trying to tell us and it’s going to kill someone in the process, I think, on frigid, windy nights when its massive canopy creaks and arches over yards humming earlier in the day with shrieking children and yapping dogs. It’s necessary, I explain to a … Continue reading Stupid Old Oak Tree by Kathleen McKitty Harris

The Camel’s Hump by Albert McFarland

Photo of people riding camels in desert
 

The Moroccan village was the same color as the surrounding hills and empty desert. The landscape had three primary colors: sandy tan, sky blue, and, occasionally, palm tree green. The young couple, tourists traveling into the hinterlands, found menu choices equally limited where options, like all resources, were scarce. The couple carried their argument from the restaurant into the night. The man, angry, pulled the woman close, roughly gripping her sweater. “Take care what you say.” From the shadows down the dusty narrow side street emerged a small group of young men, boys really. The … Continue reading The Camel’s Hump by Albert McFarland

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