Announcing the winners of our 2020 Contests in Flash Prose, Nonfiction, Poetry, and Fiction
I stew with my material for a while. Really work on that broth. Through a combination of association and intentionality and mixed metaphors and a plastic wand within which fake flowers are revealed only if a certain button is pressed just so, the magic happens. Who can say how, or why?
the sacrament parts
from a tongue
i told you
Bermuda grass is a weed, in my mind. Something unwanted, with a root system extending 35 feet down into the bowels of the wash that runs through my neighborhood. A friend told me this, with a sad smile, when I mentioned to her that I pull it.