… it’s the only place I could find diesel, standing in a sweatshirt when it’s thirty below, standing there without gloves on and pumping the fuel into a red gasoline jug.
Demanding This by Jessica Bryant Klagmann
Category: Essays
White Trash by Claudia Geagan
Mother had developed her muscles in red tasseled boots as the majorette for her high school band and lifting heavy trays in her parents’ restaurant. Lucretia developed hers picking cotton and carrying firewood.
The Mystery That Makes Me Cry by Jane Hoppen
My father is frozen in space, iced over, and I wonder what happens inside of him, where the blood still runs warm.
The Urn by Robert Isenberg
It’s astonishing that so much life can fit into a little jar.
Heroes Mean Nothing; They Never Keep Warm by Shae Krispinsky
I left my small valley-town-dirt-road Pennsylvania for the heat of the city, the humidity viscous on my skin. My fathers had to be here somewhere.
Pile Driving, Poetry and Poultry by Sangamithra Iyer
I was 26 years old; the same age my father was when he arrived in America in 1969 with seventy-five cents in his pocket. It was my first birthday without him
The Baptism of Oma Ray by Derick Strode
I grew up knowing Aunt Oma was going to hell. Mom and Dad often talked about it in the front seat of our Thunderbird on the way home from church.
Sunflowers in New Jersey by Mary Diduch
It starts with a blank, raw egg in the palm of my hand. White, cold, and smooth, except for some sand-like bumps.
Sinkhole by William Vernon
Dad’s tooth extraction bled for four days, but he continued his routines with the only apparent minor alteration of one pouching cheek…
Home Fires Burning by Anne Fox
Tonight I’ll blame the sherry for the fanciful images playing in the back of my mind—an evening, a mellow light cast from the hearth into a room textured with polished wood and soft things, a sofa lumpy with pillows, a thick, nubbled carpet, its surface worn to silkiness.
