Kelly Bargabos All There Is The receptionist who collects the tickets unlocks the front door. The narrow hallway fills up. The line is organized and orderly, for the most part. They only get rowdy when someone takes too…
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Sarah W. Bartlett Coming Home “Where we want to be is where we ought to live” – SWB, summer 1996 Apparently, I’ve been searching for a sense of home since childhood. In the great woods behind our…
Joanna Bettelheim Our Ex, Carol My father married my mother, whose name is Carolyn. After they divorced, he dated Carol. My mother bought a house in an adjacent neighborhood, keeping me in the same school district. My new bedroom…
Laura Dennis It’s Not Always Headline News Every morning, the same routine. Sip my coffee. Scan the news. Gasp at the pain in my gut. The headlines alone drive me to close my laptop and stare off into space.…
Lisa Hase-Jackson Cucumbers in July I keep forgetting to buy cucumbers. Other things on my mind, I guess, things I cannot forget, like my mother’s girlhood name, the one my aunts and uncles still use. Cee Cee. A…
Lauren Sharpe Domesticity, Now Sometimes, I pretend to be a baby so that my 4-year-old can pretend to teach me how to talk. She tells me a word and I repeat it back to her. Tonight, we snuggled…
Megan Sound Bright, Shining Light I imagine some day I will tell my daughter about how, when she occupied my womb, I ate foods I believed would make her strong. I will tell her it must have worked…
Visions of Home: A Poetry Folio This spring, in print and online, Mom Egg Review and MER VOX consider the many facets of HOME. The poets in this folio explore, among other issues, the mother’s body as home,…
Margaret Rozga Home in the Nick of Time Mid-sentence we rise from park benches, mothers, nannies, grandmas, and call children down from their climbing. Starlings flutter, lift off power lines, sparrows flit into the brush, tufts from the cottonwood…
Pramila Venkateswaran History of my Suitcase I drag the large green suitcase from its corner, clouds of cobwebs and dust rising from it making me sneeze. Peering into its dark emptiness, I hear Amma’s quiet words, smell incense and sandalwood,…