Ingrid Andersson Nova Stella I knew from the out-of-the-blue lull that can befall hard labor, bestowing sleep, that she was fully dilated: I pronounced her complete. The woman roused, turned dilated eyes to me and said—with blinding depth…
Browsing: MER Online
Danielle Jones A Love Poem Without Subtext Because sometimes the best way to say a thing is to say it: a river is as wide as a river, a knife as sharp as a knife. My love for you…
Judgment “Are you a good witch or a bad witch?” — “Rating” Mothers “Are you a good witch or a bad witch,” Dorothy asks Glinda, who has no problem naming herself as good. When we apply the…
Blair Hurley Breastfeeding and the Early Sacrifices of Motherhood What they say about early motherhood amnesia is true: the first few months I was a mother are mostly a blur now, and looking back on them, I’m not sure…
Maram Al-Masri Poetry from The Abduction (forthcoming from White Pine Press in Spring 2023) Translated by Hélène Cardona The Abduction refers to an autobiographical event in Maram Al-Masri’s life. When, as a young Arab woman living in France, she decides…
Cristi Ackerman Wells My Mother “I was adopted when I was two weeks old.” So goes the beginning of my life story. I have always known I was adopted, but I never knew my biological mother. Her existence…
Starr Davis Strange Fruits My grandma keeps a bowl of oranges on her counter. Petite, luscious mandarins. They always look so perfect. Everything in my grandma’s apartment has always been perfect. It took me years to realize it is…
Elīna Eihmane Night Mommy When darkness falls Night Mommy crawls into your bed with scissors. She cuts your nails and treats your wounds with sea buckthorn oil, she rubs White Flower ointment on your nose so you can breathe…
Heather Lanier Origin Story with Porcelain Duck In my hand is a porcelain duck with turquoise eyes that look like they’d bat if only porcelain duck-eyes could move. It stands, the duck, if you put it on my dresser.…
Kristine Kopperud When you ask if I miss Dad I know you’re asking if he was ever even here, with me, but more, with you. I know that behind the door to your room, which is missing its stop…