"A Wedding in Aleppo" by M. K. Martin
We are having a wedding in our restaurant. All morning, my younger brother, Hamid, has been scampering like a skinny, tail-less monkey, hanging lights in our cypress trees. We have the last standing cypress trees in Aleppo, so says my father. Baba spent the morning moving tables and chairs, dividing the main dining room so the women can be on one side and the men on the other. I help by hanging flowers and streamers from the walls. I hang stars and moons and suns from the ceiling. They’ll look down on us and bless my best friend’s marriage. At least they’re happy for her.
Thoughts While Waiting by Elizabeth Templeman
What did I think, then, in those years biding my time, waiting?
"Ground Rules" by Tim DeJong
The boy sits in a field.
He is four or maybe three.
Red-shirted, blue-shorted,
he arranges his gathered trifles,
"Suffragette" by Amy Stonestrom
My second favorite thing about going to church was coming home to the bubbling carrots, onions and pork or beef that stewed while we were putting in our time on the hard benches listening to Pastor Johnson. Suddenly hungry, Dad pulled a few Oreos out of the cupboard for us and then heated left-over coffee on the stove. It was a cool summer morning and I shivered in my sundress and shawl as I munched my snack, watching as black crumbs fell on the white Formica of the breakfast counter.
"Night and Day" By Marni Berger
I’m waking from a sad dream. In the dream, my husband Leo is uncharacteristically crying at me, saying, “When was the last time we were really happy?”
"Berries-n-Crème" by Preeti Vangani
Mouth open, I run
my mother’s last lipstick
over my lips. I’d forfeit
all my words
for a snippet of her voice.
"It's Still Farther Than You Think" by Emily Varnell
Marianne’s palms stuck when she pressed her hands to the red laminate table. Orange juice, she guessed, from some boy dumping over one of those curvy bottles, too excited as he ripped into his burger. She imagined pudgy fingers trying to save fries from flying into laps.
"The Redistricting of Anticipation & Dread" by Duncan Campbell
Our inclination is to assume witness
for the grand & inevitable.
Many, for example, believe the world
will end in their lifetimes.
“Details” by Mary Higbee
“What do you mean illegal?” I ask.
The only sound is the metallic ring of the spoon on the china cup as my dad stirs sugar into his coffee. It takes several seconds before he looks at me across the table and answers, “It’s illegal to scatter ashes on a public site.”
"The Weight of Snowflakes" by Lois Melina
The snow fell easily, reflected in the headlights against the darkness of the highway. The large, flat flakes seemed almost make-believe to Debra, like Lux detergent floating down from the sky, the way they made it snow on TV. She trusted Stan to take the curves slowly, as unhurried as the snow, even though they’d left Indianapolis late, after Stan’s Friday stats class. It would be hours before they’d arrive at the cabin.
"Habit" by Gail Martin
That was the day I began to paint the rabbit
with a flat straw hat, a smaller rabbit on top of that,
another hat, a caption that says, “When My Feelings
Have Feelings.” Sadness can become a habit.