Prose

Susanna Rich Knock on Wood, Grandmother Mumchy taught me, if anyone says anything good.  And not just any wood.  Can’t be a door, its jambs, or a windowsill.  Knocking on doors or windows (as others might to be let…

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Elizabeth Fergason Behindland/August Losing my cousin to her body. Me, in my daddy’s old tee shirt covering freckles and a stick shape. Her, so lush, so comfy cushion. Summer sleeps beneath the stars out at the campground near the…

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DW McKinney Sun Tea When the dust storms dwindle and the air is thick with heat, I pull a 1-gallon jar from the cabinet beside the kitchen sink. My mother gifted me the jar, an imitation of her own,…

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May Day by Heather Haldeman “Hurray! Hurray! It’s the 1st of May. Outdoor sex starts today!” “Mom!” “I know,” she laughed. “You wanted the mother with the bun in the back, the Peter Pan collar and the cross around…

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