What do you do when something ought to be a word but isn’t yet? You’re typing in something you’ve written, and a little red line appears under it. You’re supposed to humbly backspace and obediently type something else instead, because the robots are always right. Let’s say you’re writing about the sensory experience of walking on damp sand. You’re writing from the POV of an autistic child, so you need precision. “Grittiness” isn’t quite right; “powderiness” is way off. It’s not a static “roughness”, or a “crunch” exactly. “Grind” carries the wrong connotation, and even … Continue reading What Would Shakespeare Do? by Fiona M. Jones→
Thinking of Queen Elizabeth While Waiting for My Son at Dance Class The Queen’s body, enclosed in leadand English Oak, shifts forward for six hours. The waiting room, coffin of tired fabric,dance moms hold up their faces, hand bone effort. Children scurry, glass door handprints,sippy cups on tile, they escape like squirrels. Young mammals shimmer up oak treesby the road, plastic saws, hammers to pretend. Construction of her majesty’s casket lasteddecades, preparation for her death, a great British novel. In my town, dying is about which manufacturedbox is affordable. Elizabeth, a new mother to this … Continue reading Thinking of Queen Elizabeth While Waiting for My Son at Dance Class and The Solitary Mare, 2 poems by Sarah Lilius→
Ruth Knezevich is the 2nd place winner of Streetlight’s 2025 Essay/Memoir Contest Prepare fresh herbs—4 bunches parsley, 3 bunches cilantro, 2 bunches chives, 1 bunch fenugreek—first rinsing them with salt water clear bacteria and other impurities then rinsing with fresh water until it runs clear. I walk along a narrow, covered alleyway, lined on either side with vendors selling fresh meat, fresh produce, and fresh bread. I cover my nose and mouth as I hurry past the butcher’s doorway. Flies hover in front of my eyes, and some land on the untended and over-ripe peaches … Continue reading From a Persian Kitchen by Ruth Knezevich→
So, I found myself in a restaurant with my wife, two friends, and one friend’s first cousin whom I had not previously met. After drinks and appetizers, the cousin, a well-educated, intelligent, funny, and charming lawyer and real estate investor, learned that I had recently published a novel and was in the process of editing a second for publication. After hearing that each novel had taken me about ten years to write, edit and find a publisher, he proposed that, to produce more in a shorter period of time, I upload my writings into an … Continue reading Aritifice or Intelligence by E. H. Jacobs→
I wore a turquoise donkey bead on a thong around my neck— choker, bead and knot resting in the space between collarbones. Glass eye facing outward from my wrist pupil of deep blue defending against malevolence that wandered high school halls. Perhaps forgetting to say “Rabbit Rabbits” before opening eyes on the first day of the month explained everything. I have a fitness tracker clipped to my shirt as if I could outrun the apocalypse pocket full of dog treats to throw to the beast. Alison Hicks’s latest collection of poems is Homing. She was … Continue reading Portrait with Amulets by Alison Hicks→
Christopher Ghattas is the 1st place winner of Streetlight’s 2025 Essay/Memoir Contest Whenever someone tells me that they, too, are dying, my advice is always the same: keep it to yourself. I don’t mean dying with urgency. In the case of a blocked windpipe, or when a foreign object has infiltrated a major artery, I say go ahead and call someone. I’m talking about the slow kind of dying, from this or from that; any number of genetic disorders or acquired diseases qualify, and no one culprit is more special than any other. And since … Continue reading Final Thoughts by Christopher Ghattas→
Nigerian printmaker and painter Ojo Olaniyi creates works that reflect his interest in social justice, identity, and community. He often depicts his themes in group portraits and gatherings, especially catching the innocence and curiosity of children in their expressions and interactions. “I highlight social justice,” says Olaniyi, “by showing equality and fairness in my community-focused pieces. Identity is pictured in individuality and self-expression through portraits and everyday scenes and community is showcased in the beauty of human connection and shared experiences.” Olaniyi discovered his love for art during his primary school days (1967-1973) in Nigeria. … Continue reading Prints by Nigerian Artist Ojo Olaniyi→
We are going on the trip of a lifetime and the two parts of my personality are at war. Anxiety/control vs. procrastination/let it ride. It’s really fun. To celebrate our twentieth wedding anniversary, the husband and I are going back to the Isle of Man, for the annual TT motorcycle races. We have a year to plan everything; unfortunately all this time means there’s plenty of opportunity for things to go wrong and for changes to have to be made. So I take a few breaths and try to focus on something else, anything else … Continue reading Vacations are great, but . . . by Emily Littlewood→
Yesterday, I ate a lion for free, an elephant for the asking; and a leopard for my pleasure. I ate when I was not hungry, hunger stitched me into pieces and I could not eat. Hawkers and market women pleaded with me to accept a river, with two skies for a discount. If I decided to pay for an ocean, even the sea would flow along. Wherever my shadow fell, there the world was my limit. Now, the cub of a lion hides from me and the young elephant sharpens his teeth; though I was … Continue reading Shadows of their Bones by Jonathan Chibuike Ukah→
Two years ago, in the pocket of time between Thanksgiving and the onslaught of holiday chaos, I spent a week with my grandmother, Mimi, at her home on St. Simons Island. She had been feeling a little off—her words, not mine—and welcomed the company. Under her astute and vigilant direction, I cooked her favorite dinners, recorded a podcast episode about her life, and rubbed her feet while we watched TV procedurals in the evenings. Mostly, she rested. But on Thursday she got antsy. She wanted to go out to dinner. So we did. We ended … Continue reading Talk To Strangers by Bree Luck→
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