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Even with two thick coverlets over the blankets, her pelvic bone pressed like a wooden hanger against my cheek; I was sure it would leave a red mark. She had been eating for nearly two weeks now. How thin could she have been when she was first released?
By Elisa JenkinsSeptember 1991Secret codes, an underground network of doctors, complications
By Our ReadersSeptember 1991Then, a mist drifted up in front of my eyes. It started gray. It began to burn, to get redder and redder and the words I heard rolling from my lips were like the words my grandpa knew. They were holy words, words of the old prophets. Wanton. Strumpet. Whore. Sister of the serpent, angel of evil, Satan’s bitch, vessel of filth, pestilence of desire, demoness eater of the soul.
By Mary SojournerJuly 1991Picture days in grade school, summers on fire lookouts, Saturday afternoons at the movies
By Our ReadersDecember 1990My mother is seated in the shade of the balcony of her apartment in San Diego, the sun relentless in this desert-become-a-city. She stares into that cloudless blue sky. Cancer has begun its final assault upon her body.
By Kenneth KlonskyNovember 1990A repressed memory, a custody battle, a summer on the prairies
By Our ReadersNovember 1990When we got to the pond, he stopped calling her name. The hole was black, and little black waves splashed against the jagged edges of the broken ice. Father took one step onto the pond, but had to jump back.
By Candace PerryNovember 1989Miss Valentine’s School of Social Dance, jitterbugging in Calcutta, the “big girl’s ward” in the crippled children’s hospital
By Our ReadersNovember 1989The summer I was fifteen my father moved out, my breasts grew in, and my mother told me to call her Eve.
By Deborah ShouseJuly 1989Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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