Like the memory deepest hidden, it drives you The you you can’t put down make sleep smother under logic The pilot light inside burning away the shapes and masks that sell you this story– a spinning web of deja vus…
transfer, held damply in her hand, the snow melting where her cap (nearly) met her coat, her scarf left where (behind), shed like the skin of a snake, useless as an escape tool, however jauntily it was wrapped, the pantone…
Hearing your heart beat Quick, definite, determined Inside of me The first time I knew instantly That you would be My moon child, My daughter For your room I bought A fairy Lounging on a Crescent moon You came At…
Between Greenwich and Cambridge, Cambridge to Arlington The brightly lit hills rise. Reds and yellows smart the eyes. She’s bored but tuned in, marking time with teen divas Even behind my sunglasses, the color rends. There are fields still as…
Kylemore Abbey, home of the Benedictine Order of Nuns is situated on the picturesque west coast of Ireland. The nuns who reside here take a vow of silence and live quiet, peaceful lives in an enormous castle. The pristine acres…
When polishing sterling silver, Use a soft cream and a damp cloth Lest you scratch the shiny surface Of what you never meant to mar. A mother of four children, Jane Blanchard divides her time between Augusta and St.…
You have trained your restless haunches for eight months now, within me, growing by skull and brow, ribs and toes—simple kicks and I contain the world. An oak tree’s tangled loin inhales, a scratch of breath drawn over bark and…
I believe in Literary Citizenship. I really do. I believe in it in caps, as you see. To me this term has meant writing and sharing my literature, as well as advocating for literature through attending and creating literary festivals/conferences/readings.…
These are the rules regarding glitter. Listen up. The glitter has been placed in view but out of reach. This is deliberate. The “glitter tray,” the cardboard box originally designated for shaking and shining, is no longer available to you.…
Growing up in the shadow of my absentee Vietnam War veteran father, it always seemed like I inherited some, and too much, of his post-service sensibilities—he was diagnosed with Post-traumatic Stress Disorder before his second tour finished. I’ve always suspected…
Mom Egg contributor RH Douglas passed away last week. Cheryl Boyce Taylor writes of her, “She was a brave Warrior/Poet/Trini/Mother-Woman-Wildness. Say a prayer for her peace and safe travel.” In Rodlyn’s memory, we are re-printing a poem of hers originally…
Hope springs eternal –Alexander Pope The question of hope. Who carries the hope in the family? My old friend Tal who lost her son in a botched surgery says, “If you don’t have hope, you have nothing.” Sophie broke…