Megan Merchant Working the Night Shift String a white sheet from the body of trees in the wild, set a lantern behind its screen and wait for the flush of mottled wings to lisp and net the light, note how…
Browsing: MER Online
Interview: Neema Avashia Lives in Another Appalachia by Kristen Paulson-Nguyen Neema Avashia is the author of Another Appalachia: Coming Up Queer and Indian in a Mountain Place, which was released from West Virginia University Press in March 2022. Much…
Poem of the Month July 2022 Teresa Tumminello Brader (W)hole Filling one of her orifices with one part of his body is no longer enough. He yearns to crawl inside her. He wants to miniaturize his…
Summer / Girl – A Literary Folio Featuring poetry, fiction, and prose by Richelle Buccilli – Dear Backyard Honeysuckle Vanessa Napolitano – Yellow Cabinet Emily Patterson – Near the Fourth of July in a Pandemic Kelly Sue White –…
Richelle Buccilli Dear backyard honeysuckle Past the fresh lumber of the new wood fence, past the heat of late May sweating on our foreheads, past smoke, past clay, past dirt, past even the diesel fumes, you stay. As if…
Vanessa Napolitano Yellow Cabinet You painted the drawers with gilt handles yellow, out in the garden. Seven months pregnant, a neckerchief fashioned into a hat. Black and orange paisley in your hair and your hair long and chestnut. Your shoulders…
Emily Patterson Near the Fourth of July in a Pandemic The summer you were born, fireworks sputtered and crackled every night for weeks, briefly luminous. Roused from sleep by the weight of you, I heard them still, even as…
Kelly Sue White River Summer The days of slow flow river time, canoe banked on a sandy spit, the kids- their bathing suit bellies full of cherries in ankle deep water. Little red fingers grabbed at sunlight. Fists full…
Terri Linton Boogie Down Girls I. Mister Softee croons his hood melody. We clamor and crowd, chests to backs filling our sweltering Bronx street. Sprinkles drip their rainbow sweetness from vanilla-wafered cones. Ready, set, they race down our bleached…
Tiffany Sciacca P.F. 1982 10 was a reasonable age. Old enough to appreciate the glow of a firefly in the dark cup of your best friend’s hands. Wishing through her fingers for longer summers, longer legs, less pain. Behind…