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...
By Rachel E. Layton I was raised by a witch doctor. She taught me voodoo, and how to track down a killer by listening to his victim’s maggots. She took me to visit convents of shamans; They’d let me dig bones from owl pellets. I found a...
By Ashley Gonzalez Butterfly Hearts, Sisters of Fits and Starts, lend me your wings, those feathery things that make even shakiest voices sing. King of Brothers, lend me your crystal cutters, shining prisms of Light over lover’s skin. No sin in...
