After Jennifer S. Cheng 1: the sea captured in a glass 2: a homophone for having enough for leftovers, a synonym for abundance 3: the fish, who have already forgotten you. It’s not personal 4: where memory fails, there’s still imagining 5: you. Not as an ocean but outside 6: glass and/or acrylic
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* Voltage-gated pathways are depolarizedand pore-forming membrane proteinsallow calcium influx from adjacent solutions. (Cell insides become saturated) Excitation is mossy fiber runningsouthbound head-stems and paired shootsthrough once-relaxed tissue. * You’ve established rules,preventative
Brenda K. Marshall’s first novel, Mavis, was published in 1996 (Fawcett-Columbine), and
All right, I’ll be the first to admit it: I’m a sucker
Still Life with Lack of Nesting The oaks in New Orleans were restless, their rootslike fat fingers rummaging under sheets, pushing sidewalk up to sea level. The streetcar was free—or at least,
Somewhere in the endless spill of yellow sand between Phoenix and Tucson, we drove in silence, the roar of the long highway lulling me to sleep. With my head against the window,
PLCAA: Protection of Lawful Commerce in Arms Act. Broad immunity granted to gun manufacturers and dealers. An impenetrable legal shield. And by impenetrable, I mean exceptional in how few exceptions Congress permits
At Sunday lunch, Jim’s dad almost chokes on a mouthful of mashed potatoes. His mom said she wanted to visit her sister in Florida over Christmas. His dad swallows. “No way in
Eden Sundays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays brought up in belief before it was mine bible thumping, backneck kinda indoctrination on our hands and knees before the Lord that everlasting ache in the rib of Eve subservient, superpassible by the
The Wildcat Den The sunset drapes gold and pink over the city,melting against adobe walls,where murals breathe storiesof ancestors who once danced in the dust.The scent of carne asada curls through the
Dad teaches me how to make rice: “Measure the rice with your heart, then fill the water to your knuckle.” The tap fills the black pot as a cloud of starch rises.
I’d just hopped on an airplane, on my way home from a tennis weekend with friends, when my daughter, Elana called—a phone call that would send me reeling. “M-o-o-o-o-o-m-m-m-m-m,” she wailed. It
Divorced and in my fifties, I entered a relationship with Ben. At 64, he was compact, attractive, and also divorced, with wavy gray hair, and hips even slimmer than mine. Ben’s tender,
It’s nearly dark and the moon’s unrisen.The brightest stars shine through a scrim of clouds and fog. I am watching for you.Most of the neighbors have gone inside for dinner and television
