Mother Musing by Sally Donaldson I am the cruise director on a ship of fools. I organize my motley crew of might-have-beens and should-have-been. They line up at my command and refuse to do anything I tell them. They…
Browsing: Prose
Dear Matthew by Brenda Bellinger No doubt this letter has already been opened for you. I’m trying to picture you now, age-progressed since I held you in my arms when you were two months old. You were an adorable…
Radhiyah Ayobami how maybelle survived new york who needed the north / when there was the smell of gardenias at night as she slept between two big sisters in a hollow / of skin & smell so when girls at…
THREE CREATIVE NONFICTION PIECES FROM LINDA MICHEL-CASSIDY TWENTY-TWO She thinks she needs to have her life figured out. At her age, I was in a rigorous graduate program, terrified of each day, unable to free myself from a…
THREE CREATIVE NONFICTION PIECES FROM MARIA BENET IMPRINT At the end of Spielberg’s film, “A.I.,” David, the prototype robot child built with the sole purpose to love unconditionally, survives for millennia in a world ravaged by uncountable and…
Shawn(ta) Smith-Cruz Weaning Today I said goodbye to you while “papa” held you atop the front porch, me below, blowing kisses and waiting for you to mimic my movements of palmed stretched hands from lips to air in your…
Mariahadessa Ekere Tallie Writing Around the Edges “I learned to write around the edges.” Wanda Coleman I wake up every day at 4AM while the house is quiet. I write for three hours until the children wake up.…
The Way We Worked, In Three Acts by Jamie Wagman I. Long Ago My grandmother worked in kitchens, professional and home, pouring coffee and working a register, working from recipes and working from memory. Her hands were smooth velvet,…
Threads of Connection by Nancy Gerber My grandmother was an artist with needle and thread. By the time I was born, she had retired as a seamstress who took in sewing to help my grandfather, a tailor, make ends…
The Art of Making Hard Work Look Easy, or Simply Paid in Gratitude by Edward D. Currelley My mother Annie used to get up long before the crack of dawn; first things first, her coffee. The essential part of getting…