The appointment was made for five-thirty so my wife Polly and I could both be there. She worked in an office in town and I was working from home then. But my work had been slow so I really wasn’t doing much of anything at work, and when I was awoken by a knock at the front door I sat up on the couch and looked at the clock and saw that it was a quarter to five. When I opened the door an overweight man in his sixties, wearing a white dress shirt … Continue reading Hard Water by S. E. Wilson→
My mom died sometime last year. And it’s funny, I couldn’t tell you exactly when it happened. Well, it’s not so much funny as it is strange. Because I wasn’t expecting her to die at all. And what you should also understand is that she’s not actually dead. Not physically at least. She’s still kicking up dust. Texting. Breathing. But she’s somehow also gone; or at least for me she is. She’s dead in a way I’ve found excruciatingly hard to pinpoint and to process. It happened some time after my Dad died. He did … Continue reading Death Reprise by Lauren Dunn→
Keeping Time The mayfly lives two days, a swallowtail butterfly two weeks. The last generation of monarchs born each year endure for months flying the hundred mile a day migration, ribbons, orange and black, unfurl high across the sky. Dragonfly nymphs thrive five years in streams hiding under roots and rocks. Arctic woolly bear caterpillars chew willow leaves for seven. Spiders spin their silk orb webs for twenty years, liquid in their abdomens pulled out as threads by gravity, like water stiffening to icicles. A human life is to the lives of stars as the … Continue reading Keeping Time and Awake in the Night, 2 poems by Patricia Hemminger→
All is quiet; the winds have subsided; The storm’s dissonance is behind us. Sideways rain and sleet that tore through the night Have jeweled branches with icy shards Of pearls that refract the pale sunlight Demurely peeking through lightening clouds. Nuthatches dance up and down trunks of trees; A lone blue jay streaks down lighting on a bush. A thin white icy wafer-like crust coats The grass, the steps, and roadway, too, All unbroken by footprint or tire tracks. On this joyful morning as we celebrate This elusive moment of momentary peace, We pause, knowing … Continue reading Respite by Joseph Kleponis→
I stretched out my legs before me, ready to bury my dead bodies, when my boss invited me to his office and made me an immoral offer. He pleaded with me with a blackface and with eyes tinier than the mustard seed, that he would appreciate my help were I prepared to offer it to him. He would be grateful if I killed myself; so calm and gentle like lilac was he when he laid down a body-worn camera on the table and asked me to drive it wherever I went. I carried it with … Continue reading Self Driving to Eternity by Chibuike Ukah→
I know a story they left out of her obituary. In the late 1970s and early 80s I worked in the Development Department at The Franklin Institute, the Philadelphia science & industry museum. Stanley Pearson worked in the same department. We were an odd pair. I was in my twenties, liberal, struggling to support my wife and me while she was in grad school; for fun, I spent my free time programming an early CP/M microcomputer. Stan was in his sixties, conservative, a part of the network of Princeton alumni who ran Philadelphia business and … Continue reading Slugger by Walter Lawn→
In the ER, we try to save them all, yet, each death of a stranger is a small death inside me, an accumulation of failed effort that cripples imagination, cripples empathy, presses the dream closed. Still, each departure can be a small reprieve from holding back the flood of sick and injured souls, a momentary opportunity to draw breath deeply. Running along beside a stretcher down a corridor trying to pump a man’s chest. His eyes already glazing over, he won’t revive. I feel nothing. Evolved into a numb creature, I see only shadows, … Continue reading A Plum on a Tree by Roselyn Elliott→
9 a.m. ‘M’ comes out of his flat. I see his head first, coming up the basement steps. He needs a haircut. And he’s wearing the same shirt he had on yesterday. He’s let things slide. The way he’s standing, tapping the pavement with his cane and moving his weight back and forwards, either he’s in pain or he can’t make his mind up whether to go left or right. Sometimes when he just stands there, I know it’s because he senses someone watching him. Once, I was concentrating on a patch of leg … Continue reading Ground Zero by Lynn Bushell→
When I encounter a word I don’t know I check the books and screens. Even after that, there remain words I cannot find the meaning of. Some are multisyllabic thefts from languages not mine. Some might be mis-spellings or typos that look correct until not. Some congregate in sentences but so many just sit there refusing to surrender meaning. And then there are the words I always thought I knew: tree, rain, stone, island, myself. Michael Penny was born in Australia and now lives on an island near Vancouver, BC. He pursues his interest in … Continue reading Ignorance by Michael Penny→
HEART OF GOLD The calendar waves its pages, and announces it’s time for our annual tradition of tapping trees and sugaring. Oh wait: not you! No more plates full of sticky, sweet, heart-shaped pancakes drenched in homemade maple syrup, surrounded by sausage patties with a heap of cheesy potatoes. It’s against the new rules. My strong, healthy, hard-working, and big-hearted husband has Congestive Heart Failure. HEART THROB Frank Sinatra sang, “Each day is Valentine’s Day around here.” Ironically, it seems Ol’ Blue Eyes was singing our theme song. Our house is full of heartfelt reminders. … Continue reading My Funny Little Valentine by Lucinda Guard→
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