He kneads my belly like he does every night. He thinks you’re his mama, you tell me, your face a pixelated screen from sixteen hours away.
Sometimes We Forget by Nicola Sebastian
Category: Creative Nonfiction
To the Miami University Payroll Lady by Frenci Nguyen
You might not remember me, but I’m the dark-haired, Texas-born, Asian-American graduate student who visited the Payroll Office the other day…
Inside My Mother’s Mouth by AM Roselli
Last night the stars fell down and landed on my mother’s fingertip, specifically her right index finger where her dream occurred.
In Transit by Erica Plouffe Lazure
Here at the St. Thomas airport in mid-March, we feel the urgency of the transition, the awareness of how we position our bodies…
Election Day by Ashley Cowger
Four years from now, you will ask me what happened to the female presidential candidates.
Fill Me With Flowers by Jenna McGuiggan
I’m worrying about the planting schedule. Winter was so mild; did the farmers move up their timetable?
From the Objects of Your Abandonment by Lisa K. Buchanan
No matter how bad it got between the two of you, your mother could always knit you a sweater.
The Head on the Commuter Line by Max King Cap
I grew up on trains. I attended college by train. I went to work by train. There was a station less than two blocks from my firehouse…
Food Is Home. Home is Food. by Smitha Murthy
I spoon some batter for the ambode into my hands. Mom slaps my wrist, but I can’t resist as I watch her press the batter between her hands…
Tan Lines by Michael Todd
Skin has always come first, a sheath concealing that which is honest, sometimes dangerous.
