Adrie Rose Climate Strike I organize the strike and I burn dinner. I organize the strike and I carry our clothes two blocks to the laundromat. The news says it’s already too late and I organize the strike. I…
Browsing: MER Online
Wendy Mannis Scher Memo to the Absent Facing west, feel the weight of late afternoon press itself against the windows. Such heat, and the refracted sun quilts the floor, the walls, the skin, dust motes threading rainbows. Beyond the…
Jennifer Barber Writing Too Fast, I Write “Thew” for “The” As if you and I commingled +++++++++in the dark and later the same day I give birth to little baby Thew, +++++++++born in winter under a mauve sky. By…
U-Meleni Mhlaba-Adebo Life Quiver I think I felt my daughter speak to me whisper her presence in the depths of my core felt her name bubble in my mind Shamiso her brown angelic face showing herself through the tears the…
Hilary King Investigations Are you watching your sad detective show our daughter asks us each evening. Sad L. A. detective, sad British detective, sad Swedish detective in gray blue suit standing in a gray blue field, white-shrouded body at his…
Jennifer Case Things People Tell Me When I Write About Motherhood From an esteemed essayist I have long admired: “Yes, we need to talk more about what women gave up when they left the home.” In a cream envelope,…
Derek Davidson Medium Start with blue, a cadmium wash spilling through Mom’s studio window, covering drafting table, stool, bookshelves, blue a patina before Mom registers the incoming dark and turns on the light. Then a click of the lamp…
Amy Gallo Ryan Water’s Edge Fifteen fingers worm through mine, burrowing and squirming as they pull hard for leverage. My kids and I are always touching, it seems, but today the physicality has a kind of kinetic fervor. The…
Melissa Mowry Cinderella & I Before I hit the uphill climb of my long, winding driveway, I take a steadying breath and lock eyes with myself in the rearview mirror. Back to reality. My ascent is slow, plodding. As…
Sharon Dolin Two Questions after Marianne Moore My mother would ask, “Is he tall? Is he a good kisser?” whenever a new man entered my life. I always wondered, Did she mean just kissing or was she asking if he…