The intersection of body and place dominates Natalie Scenters-Zapico’s second collection Lima::Limon, a book that makes explicit the ways in which female bodies are excavated and mined. She writes in “The Hunt,” the final poem of the collection, “I am a lucky /...
My words are purple and my brain is growing green tell them about all those you found This is the time to be outta your mind. I have never been so sure of anything, she said. Or have I? I’m not sure When my kids were little, their art was everywhere. Finger...
I have spent the last few weeks struggling to put my thoughts and emotions into words. As a writer, I want to use my words to stand with my Black brothers and sisters as we fight against the systemic racism we face daily. But to be honest, I’m at a loss as to where to...
By Holly Day I feel the wings flutter under my skin as I tell them about my childhood, about how things were before I had children of my own. I hint at the type of insect I was make it more beautiful—I was a butterfly, a damselfly a fluorescent leaf-hopper, something...
By Marti Rhode All I want now is a pair of turquoise cowgirl boots. You know what kind, the ones with doily stitching around the top, and pointed, cowgirl toes. I want one of those twirling skirts with white rick-rack trim, and fringe, somewhere. ...
By Gail Peck This new place on the second floor I call my tree house. I can’t get used to saying apartment. There are trees all around and a twenty-five-foot balcony. Still, I miss the private backyard we had, especially the Japanese Maples we planted and could...
