He took his bike from under the porch and rode down the driveway and out onto the sidewalk. He rode around the corner and east on 47th Street past the Ford house and the other homes that all knew decent lives within. He rode around to the other side of the block, a short distance all in all, and then he was coasting up in front of Mark’s house, where Mark was already carrying bricks out to the sidewalk. Gabriel stopped and stood straddling his bike. Come on, Mark said. Are you going to help … Continue reading Two Homes by Douglas Cole→
My favorite television cowboy was the Lone Ranger because he didn’t sing, he didn’t kill Indians for the fun of it, and he wasn’t even a cowboy. He was a hero with an Indian for a sidekick. His horse was named Silver. It was a white horse, which is the best kind of horse for a hero because you can always see him coming. His bullets were made of silver. They were very expensive. This meant he couldn’t waste them. This meant he was a damn good shot. His black mask was the stark geometry … Continue reading The Lone Ranger Alone by J.R. Solonche→
There are times when Dr. Amanda Mullen’s visage takes on that of a lion tamer about to open the locked gate to the ring where the lions are gathered for them to be put through their traces; or, the look of a guide in Denali National Park on a trail in brown bear country, with an air of utter respect but also with an eye on possible danger. Dr. Mullen is sitting across from me as I recount how I have been blindsided. I tend to be a scrupulous planner, especially when I take Tevis … Continue reading Blindsided by Wally Swist→
I thought it was all behind me remission said my doctor now only periodic PET scans to be sure only blood tests to double check numbers months of chemo, nausea and mouth sores left behind on a distant shore sailing easily on a salty breeze no worries weighing me down what I didn’t know is that remission means never really left behind cancer walking silently beside you like a shadow a part of your life forever like your best friend from first grade listen, can you hear the waves swooshing as you sail near the … Continue reading Left Behind by Claire Rubin Scott→
The slap came before I could take a breath. I had just said the word “Jiao” the way Teacher Zhang had taught me, firm in my seven-year-old confidence. My mother, arising from her chair and putting down her knitting, hovered behind me in her wool jacket and sharp eyes, and didn’t agree. “It’s pronounced Xiao,” she corrected, her voice clipped, sharp. “But Teacher Zhang said Jiao,” I muttered and continued reading aloud, repeating it the way I had learned. Her hand sliced the air. “I’m a teacher too!” she snapped just before it landed across … Continue reading The Slap and the Word by Jean Romano→
I write in an accent interposed by war school closure, hunger and starvation. I write in an accent interposed by the absence of my father, the word that I stutter to utter due to the vague memory imposed by time despite the good things said about him. I write in an accent interposed by my mother’s many attempts to wrap her arms around the eight of us the way a hen would spread her wings to protect her chicks from the hawk. I write with an accent interposed By the stay-at-home policy of the … Continue reading Accent by Abraham Kedong Ali→
Black-faced sheep stand still in the valley along the Great Western Railway line, filling their bellies with the grass of the English countryside. Some hold onto the hillsides, their tails in the air, gathered in threes and fours. And near the train tracks, a stream runs, and shirtless young boys carry on in a waterfall. I travel through Western England, a few miles east of Bristol where outside the old village, rows of brown and grey stone homes lean against gardens of red roses. I’m heading for Portsmouth on a Sunday in June to stand … Continue reading A Tavern in The Village by David W. Berner→
I read in the paper today was the birthday of the artist Jasper Johns, 95. I didn’t realize he was still alive. I remember him from Art History classes fifty years ago in college, his works on display at the BMA. This sometimes happens, an actor or a singer I’d assumed dead shows up in a story in the newspaper, very much alive. And yet I often dream one or the other of my deceased brothers is still living, often a dream about an argument we’re having, and when I wake up, I’m still … Continue reading Jasper Johns by Charles Rummelkamp→
Along with her missing teeth, Ms. Goway’s head and puff of white hair were all I saw on the screen. She rattled her handcuffs and said she would try the case herself. It was the spring of 2024. I was a judge in California, handling arraignments, the stage in a case when criminal defendants made their first appearances, entered guilty or not guilty pleas, or—too often—asked for a delay. COVID had receded (sort of), but not its legacy of virtual hearings. While judges had to show up in court, even for brief matters like a … Continue reading Zoom Pleas by Anthony J. Mohr→
Genius of oval, ovum, overlap capable of great feats, holding back the waterfall of too much cleavage or in my case, too vast a high plain of a post-mastectomy chest, thanks to this duchess of metal modesty protecting glamour girls and plain ones. Eagle landing to save the day and a nylon bag from spilling dozens of caramels in the gutter. Savior of a million opening nights everywhere from Broadway to small town high school renditions of The Music Man or Rent. Grandmother of agility in pink or blue bent on putting the safe … Continue reading Ode to a Safety Pin by Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg→
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