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Marriage
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories
Knockers Up
We Edwards women are proud of our bodies. My mother has a lovely ass. My aunt has champion ankles. My cousin has long, thick hair worth climbing. And Mae Edwards, my eighty-seven-year-old grandmother, still has the world’s most magnificent breasts.
July 2017
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories
A List Of My Utopias
My mother is a wood thrush, and my father is a great snipe. They aren’t my parents in this utopia. They’re birds who met once, then drifted apart, as birds do, so they could lead their own lives and become who they were meant to be. They have no children, bird or otherwise, tugging them in a different, boring direction.
April 2017Readers Write
Leaps Of Faith
An immigrant’s decision, a gambler’s dilemma, a daughter’s grief
March 2017
Poetry
Sometimes The Dream
My student blushed all over his bald head / as he confessed, laughing, / “I have those adultery dreams — you know, the ones / where you wake up in a cold sweat: / Thank God, thank God, / I didn’t mess up my whole life!”
March 2017Poetry
Getting Into Bed On A December Night
When I slip beneath the quilt and fold into / your warmth, I think we are like the pages / of a love letter
February 2017
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories
Still Running
Kathrine Switzer, the first woman to officially enter the Boston Marathon. She wasn’t looking to make history; she only wanted to run. But in 1967 the marathon was closed to women. So she entered as “K.V. Switzer” and ran in disguise for four miles until the race director, Jock Semple, jumped off the press truck and shouted, “Get the hell out of my race!” The picture of him trying to rip the number off her chest made headlines.
February 2017
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories
What Love Looks Like From Here
We’ve been married nearly forty years, but we are still learning from my parents what love looks like: How it moves. All the shapes it takes. Though my parents can no longer care for themselves, they care for each other.
February 2017
Fiction
Pretty Women
Later I showed my evidence. I had text messages of course; everyone always has text messages. The text message is now the lipstick on the collar, and the worst thing is that, much like the lipstick, it only hints at what really is going on.
January 2017
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