- March 22, 2021
The summer I became the last girl in my father’s house, I read Gilead for the first time. I was between my junior and senior years of college, and now that both of my older sisters were married, I
Menu
Category: Nonfiction
- March 12, 2021
It’s Monday, 1:45, and six men and I sit in a circle with our German-trained psychotherapist, an imperious woman who reminds us that she is here to help or offer guidance only if we get bogged down and that
- March 2, 2021
Hunt The first doll I remember being given was of a sturdy vinyl construction: a big baby doll with molded plastic hair rather than lifelike hair and eyes that opened and closed. It was about the size my baby
- May 25, 2020
After divorcing my father, mom married Hank. He was an alcoholic, but I preferred him drunk. It was the only time he’d speak to me in anything but monosyllabic directives. We moved into Hank’s
- May 25, 2020
So you wait and watch and worry and plan because the reply that comes, must come, around 7 or 8 will be that much more monumental, you watching the end of the universe and the sound of a rotary
- May 25, 2020
As I bend, my body accordion-folded, mind floating above while my body, underneath, performs its own rituals— A firm pinch, a brisk yank, then I toss the weeds I
- March 25, 2020
Stray conversations lingered in the air. Dull grey smoke drifted on the passing breeze peppering olfactory nerves with burnt meats and dwelling vegetables far beyond ripe. The sun, stood high in the clear blue
- February 28, 2020
Monday I’ll sit across the room from the chemo patients. I’ll wait and watch and listen to cancer and laughter and how those cookies on the white plate restore ground for only that moment after or before. * You
- February 19, 2020
Ah, Halloween. The one day of the year when one gets social license to dress as their innermost desire. Max and I were sophomores at Libertyville High School. LHS
We read submissions year-round
