* * * Vultures High in the cottonwood fingered wings bend the air, the swoosh of black wool robes. * * * Day’s End, Twoloon Lane Who cooks…
death
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Dear Carole, Today I learned that like humans, birds have four-chambered hearts. Can you imagine? In those tiny, frail-boned bodies with feathers that float right off in a healthy breeze.…
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A warm, tender wind swirled inside the hollow as the rising sun shimmered over the edge of the opening. The nest felt more comfortable than I could ever remember, making…
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* * * Be careful with this hurt creature that you hold: a little bird, barely breathing but gently panting, after you quieted her heartbeat in your hands The softest…
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* * * The Seagull The bird is spattered with sand. Its long feathers glisten with damp and keratin. The body is still a snowy white, its wings a delicate…
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I. They had all disappeared before I arrived. Death. Distance. Disconnection. And discontent. Mother said her mum jubilated when she conceived me. But earth had taken her in, folding…
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Creative Nonfiction / Essay
Literacy Narrative: Letter to an Uncle
by Guest Contributor June 11, 2020Dear Uncle R., Here’s what the stories have told me: you died in 1987 at home, not in Vietnam. I was born in 1990. My coworker—an army reserve who saw…
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Too happy Time dissolves itself And leaves no remnant by – ‘Tis Anguish not a Feather hath Or too much weight to fly – —Emily Dickinson Not long into…
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My dog sees the gull before I do. She strains at the leash, pulling toward the shifting grey shape, which becomes a filthy bundle of feathers, which becomes an injured…
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Creative Nonfiction / Essay
On Instagram I’m Not My Boyfriend’s Girlfriend: 5 Notes on the Spectator & Being Dead
by Julia Cohen May 15, 2020Text Message Exchange on December 20th: Alexandra: I think I found an actual photo of Finn cheating on you in June. Maya follows Finn on Instagram, it was not hard…
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People were curious and wanted to see something rare—a great black hawk from Mexico with legs so long that it hunted squirrels by running them down. Bird lovers drove in…
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I wouldn’t walk away from my mother’s dead body. After my sisters and I had washed her breasts, belly, arms, and smoothed scented cream over her soft, soft papery skin,…
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Image Credit: Brett Jordan via Unsplash One Sunday evening, I tucked myself into bed earlier than usual with the intention of getting a long night’s rest before the busy…
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Image Credit: Megan Perra You’ve probably heard this one before. When I was six years old, my father left our family. He left Virginia for Florida, weaved in and…