Soil Inventory

Toya L. Walker
I keep finding my mother in dirt.

Wellness Check

Kim Murdock
And she's whirling again, our mother, hair plastered like so much seaweed against her face.

Rowing

Jeff Friedman
He was so angry he couldn’t hear what she was saying.

We Chose “Resting Pose” Because He Was So Very Tired by the End

Emily Rinkema
Rusty was in no condition to be taxidermied, but it was too late.

Photo Story: Wilt

Cheryl Snell
The kitchen window framed the panorama of our dailiness: the kiss of tea to tongue, seasons pouring down against the glass.

The Suicide’s Sister

Sarah Freligh
I used to catch him studying the map of his right hand, forefinger tracing a highway of veins coursing north from wrist to palm, peninsula of fingers jutting into the air.

Four Seasons with Uncle Pidio

Veronica Montes
In the winter of my eighth year, Uncle Pidio pressed a nickel into my palm for every walnut I extracted, intact, from its shell.

Photo Story: Abundance

Scott Soodek
Back home, choice meant having or not having.

Past Midnight, the Chicken Falls On Her From Above

Nicole Brogdon
bumpy webbed feet scratching her chest, beak pecking her arms as she enfolds it— what’s she supposed to do with this creature?

Mathemalchemy

Nin Timbers
He spent hours watching eights chase infinity.

I ran into God in the snack aisle at Costco

Beth Sherman
where He was debating whether to buy shrimp chips or chocolate donut bites...

Kidney

Lindsey Godfrey Eccles
Now little brother’s scrambled up like eggs. Can’t hunt can’t fish can’t sit.