The interior of the sanctuary is dark as I stand in my pew, head bowed. Plates of wafers and thimble-sized cups of grape juice pass between the rows.
The Body by Bridgit Kuenning-Pollpeter
Category: Essays
Citrus Trees by Lucinda Cummings
A gray April morning, it snowed again yesterday, as it has every Thursday for the past four weeks.
The Tan Place by L. Jackson
I wonder why anyone would choose stomach-acid yellow paint for an ER, as if bile were a calming hue.
Cannot Be Seen, Nor Even Touched by Petra Perkins
“Why would you do that?” my son asked. “It’s a long way to go, to see something that lasts only a few seconds.”
In the Twinkling of an Eye by Amelia Franz
The caboose rumbled past the parsonage driveway, next door to the Church of God where Daddy pastored.
el pretérito by Zach Sheneman
You have come to this university on and off for a decade—as a music major first, and then a dropout…..
The Momentum of Nostalgia by Jenn Hall
I don’t know why I went south looking for my father, but I did.
Odds Are by Suzanne Roberts
“Who’s Your Momma? seems lucky,” I told Sandra. “I love her name.”
Imagining Cuba by Laura Platas Scott
I learned words that day I may have heard before, but this time I listened. Exile (a sad word). Refugee (also sad)…
A Temporary Quiet by Andrea Marcusa
All is silent except for a subtle, “chug, ta, ta,” a faraway sound like the wheels of a train quietly rolling within me.
