How many years since mystery disappearance –who knows? in the basement his things his hurt glance with twinkle of defiance –coming off in charge “As far as we knew you were dead!” kilter of his belongings stored in the laundry room We go on a picnic to Redbrush and there he is living on nuts and berries He runs at us shouting gibberish his long dirty nails deployed to heighten the scare The children are not amused I manage to coax him with a swig of water and an energy bar His mother gets him shackled and in the van…
Author: Mom Egg Review
My body would not give you up. An iris slow to open at the center of me, softened only by hours, in the rush of waters narrowed again and in the end, on the third day, had to be held open for you. You must understand if at night I press my face to your chest, hold a small foot in each of my hands. My body aches sometimes for the wing-flutters, the swollen rolls, the second pulse it knew when it held both of us. Karen Pojmann is a writer and editor. She has worked mostly in magazine journalism…
There is a tilt to the world a lilt to the world when I think of her the imagined daughter I might just have one day a delight ringed by a thousand sadnesses of losses I imagine for it is only losses I know of mothers and daughters divisions and divides in flesh so alike they can not stay separate there is a lilt a tilt to the world when I think of my mother the imagined one I might just have one day bodies more alike than the great divide would suggest. Dareth Ann Goettemoeller is a fine…
If the football captain moves to the forest, will the cheerleader still gain weight? If you hate high school, is it easier to adjust to adult life? Do you give your kids advice or do you figure times have changed? How did I even live this long? My mother complained about being in her fifties, but she should have said something about the forties. The forties are something for you too, aren’t they? Except you—you look exactly the same. (Some time describing the—okay, let’s just say it: boy toy—who came on the tour of the new wing. Lisa wanted to…
Let me be the calm, let this be the place, let this be the center, eye of the storm, let it swirl all around outside of here. Here is the garden maples, redbuds, and oak trees shade you wrens, sparrows, and cardinals sing to you scents of the blooming roses, basil, oregano, the damp earth itself fill your head fill you with peace Let me be the calm Let this be the place Right here Carol Brown is living in Columbia, MO. She is the mother of two teenagers. She is also a writer, a fiber artist, and a…
Autumn Renga R. Erica Doyle, Monica A. Hand, Yona Harvey, Cherise A. Pollard, Kate Rushin Searched for shooting stars found silence in The Milky Way harvest home. (Kate) Blue moon is not blue it’s white just like all the other moons. (Monica) Like the ancients, I navigate constellations your visage, my sky. (Erica) Stars pulse desire into the cosmos, night winds cool our Autumn heat (Cherise) wood fire warms the room flames light nearby photographs distant relatives. (Yona) Calls, cards, old hymns keep us close: prayers in the season of night. (Kate) Orion will rise: thousands of blackbirds gather…
Autumn Renga R.Erica Doyle Monica A. Hand Yona Harvey Cherise A. Pollard Kate Rushin Poets’ Group Selections Carol Brown – Refuge Ann Marie Gamble – Somewhere Near the Punch Bowl at the 30-Year Class Reuniom Dareth Ann Goettemoeller – When I Think of Her Karen Pojmann – Umbilicus Elizabeth Ann Rieman – Lil’ Strife “The Poets’ Group is an informal (until we agree on the T-shirt design) group of women who meet sporadically (every three weeks) to write and read what we’ve written. Our various work lives (and writing itself) can be isolated endeavors, and our group provides collegiality and…
– WITH ANIMAL is a collaborative book of short stories, written by Kelly Magee and Carol Guess, that imagines the implications of humans who become pregnant with animals. Pregnancy and childbirth are times when surreal and sometimes unexplainable things really do happen, so it was a natural extension to take these stories into the realm of magical realism. It’s pretty common, for example, for women’s hair to get thicker during pregnancy, so if she was pregnant with a sheep, it seemed to follow that she’d grow fur; women crave specific and sometimes odd foods during pregnancy, so if a woman…
Review by Bunny Goodjohn …From her mother dimension /high among the fluorescent lights, she // coached me through the solar system of house, / over thresholds into the galaxy of backyard, / through the gate into the universe of town and beyond. (“The Grip” 88) Before I launch into a review that shamelessly lauds Jim Peterson’s writing, it is only fair that I disclose how well I know both the man and his poetry. We met in 2001 when I was an undergraduate at Randolph-Macon Woman’s College. I was a “mature student” about to declare as a Political Science major…
Reviewed by RZ Wiggins Anyone who has been in a cross-cultural relationship will empathize with the frequent cultural misunderstandings and the awkwardness of family and friends who don’t speak the same language that are prominent in Tracy Slater’s memoir. The book is testament that such obstacles can be overcome. Slater meets her husband-to-be, Toru, when in her late thirties, an independent, Ph.D. professional. Reluctant to relocate from her native Boston, she declares herself “bicontinental,” maintains her apartment, commutes to her job teaching MBAs to write, and develops a literary series sited in Boston and Tokyo. Japanese can be reserved towards…