In the century most recently expired, pigments to suggest certain fruits and vegetables were infused into the metal of appliances, plastic tableware, canisters for sugar and flour, even the weave in carpet fibers. These were part of a concurrent affronts to taste including deleted expletives of Presidents, the Fonz scowling at a juke box, gas lines, fear of toilet paper shortages. Then that ancient ‘fridge began leaking coolants. You could have bought new seals, a refill of freon, but there was a virgin Master Card for such crises. The clearance floor model was the only … Continue reading Avocado by Christopher Dungey→
Rachel Turney has traveled the world with curiosity and a camera. It all began in childhood. “I started taking pictures of houses in my Midwest neighborhood when I was in grade school. I was very interested in architecture. Patterns have always intrigued me. Shutters on brick, the placement of windows, the varying colors of paint. “I also spent a lot of time as a child with stacks of National Geographics at my grandparents’ house. My grandparents were big travelers and I loved to look at their photographs and old slide shows. I think the … Continue reading The Photographs of Rachel Turney→
I’d thank the heavens my shift is over but I can’t think straight long enough to do it. I don’t even remember pulling past the gates of the complex, and the rising sun shining in my eyes is making it harder to stay awake—go figure. My body feels like it’s shutting down as I drive over the speed limit on HWY 20, desperate to make it home—desperate for bed. Time slips and I’m back at the factory, spinning caps on bottles at thirty a minute, decked head to toe in heavy choking plastic, drenched … Continue reading HWY 20 at 30 Bottles a Minute by M. R. Whitt→
I pattern through my day first thing, I walk across the green geometry of my rug telling myself I will stay on course, breathe rhythmically coffee myself up to start up my inner waves of can-do coming and going through tasks written on my straight-line list repeat my regularities shower myself with adulthood stand among the trees living above underground networks feel their energy, take in the reliabilities of exchange somewhat ready for small differences and changes in the flow and spiraling of conversations with the known and the unknown who may try to sprinkle … Continue reading Framework by Susan Shea→
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→
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