Remains, by Maureen Simons
They came back every year to lay flowers at the spot. Two little girls, hand in hand, walked soundlessly up Nora’s driveway.
How Unbecoming, by Katie Tunning
I’m sorry for saying the heat death of the universe / when you asked what comforted me most
by Angie Ellis
I keep a list of songs I know well, so that if I get dementia people can reach the real me hidden inside my broken brain.
by Lori Nevole
My first girlfriend was Catholic, and thought no one would know she was a lesbian if she kept up a great manicure.
by Tommy Dean
We’re lying in the middle of a cracked country road, fireflies blinking a message we’re too human to understand.
by Betsy Porter
She would be devastated if something happened to him—a car accident, for example, it’s entirely possible.
by Jennifer Gennari
I want to be president / she says unprompted. / Her unfinished writing task / lies on the table between us.
by Karen Paul Holmes
When fifteen hours of Wagner’s Ring draws to a close, please Siegfried, don’t take the potion making you forget Brünnhilde.
by Michael Mark
My father puts the milk carton / on the kitchen table. Declares, She bought it—before.
by Rebecca Foust
If Pastor Dale’s deer-stand was built as a place from which to squeeze a hair trigger, it also ladled up a grand view of the valley below, thick with hickory, sycamore, and elm.
by Dina Peone
One night in my mid-teens, I was under the covers in my sister’s bedroom, deep asleep, while flames spread from a nearby candle.
by Jen Bergmark
Technically, you needed only one eye to take a photo, but you needed the other to see.