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Exploring the art of prose

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CREATIVE NONFICTION

Normal Girl by Kelly Lindell

February 24, 2021

  Bedtime in first grade is finger jelly and sock lint. Vaseline rubbed on my bloody, split, vellum-dry knuckles; hands cocooned in white Nike gym socks, wrapped on my wrist with scrunchies. I am told to sleep. Wake up for…

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Wheel of Sleep by Steve Mitchell

February 10, 2021

  Justine’s gaze is forward, eyes narrowed. Her blond hair hangs limp, wet or unwashed. Her face is puffy. She might have been crying all night, but her eyes are not red, her cheeks aren’t wet. It’s dawn or dusk,…

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Called Shot: A Prose Sestina by Emma Kaiser

January 27, 2021

  I ignore him as he takes the chair across from mine, though I knew of course that he’d be here—back porch of the local backwoods dive bar, the night cool, the back of my neck burning. It is November…

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Collecting Thoughts on Memory by Elizabeth Templeman

January 13, 2021

  My father suffered from Alzheimer’s Disease. “Suffered” isn’t quite accurate, though. Dad fell gently into the embrace of Alzheimer’s. During the years between the diagnosis and his death, only once did I see him frustrated by his inability to…

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The Coat by Kathleen McKitty Harris

December 16, 2020

  Christmas, 1978. I recognized my father’s rushed, angular handwriting in Santa’s note beside the empty scotch glass and plate of sugared crumbs on our coffee table—but I was eight, and I wanted to believe. That year, my father bought…

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When Steve Urkel Played Soccer by Davon Loeb

December 2, 2020

  They thought I’d be the best kid on the team, made plans before the season started, me at striker or wing—using my speed to split defenders, Inside Scissors to a Step-Over, moving that ball from heel to toe like…

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Abbreviated / Not Manager Material by Paul Crenshaw

November 18, 2020

  Abbreviated   Since entering middle age, I sometimes fear my time is running short. I could use the word “manopause” to explain the changes men face at my age, but I need to save time so I just say…

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Refrigerator Elegy by Lindsey Harding

November 11, 2020

  Do all things expire? you ask on trash night, and I shake my head, shake two-week-old pasta into the sink, shepherd it down the drain. No, surely no. And later—the refrigerator cleaned out, its shelves crumbless at last, so…

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Losing Composure by A.D. Carr

October 21, 2020

  Poioumenon for my son “Can I ask you a personal question?” I asked. “About kids?” It was early 2017. I was in the passenger seat and my friend, G., was driving. She’d been my lit professor back when I…

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Dois Irmãos by Hannah Storm

October 7, 2020

  There’s a hill in Rio that overlooks the water, named for the fact it has two peaks. You describe it to me, but I don’t catch its name as you take my breasts in your hands, nuzzle my neck…

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