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Page 216 from Issue 107-108

sniffed some­ thing. I watched my mom sidestep--"No, the mail hadn't come yet"­ ... everyone stayed away, including us. My father worked late, my brother went to the movies, I played ... punchball in the street, and my mother, when she wasn't fending off Rose, prepared the Seder meal. ...
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Page 80 from Issue 135-136

bologna?" "Cai gi vay?" My mother's brow furrowed. "If I can't ... pronounce it, my customers won't buy it. Now go stamp the prices on those cans." ... say what I had suspected for a while, that my mother wasn't always right. "Why do ...
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Page 172 from Issue 135-136

Zelda's company was the only solution. Zelda seemed the solution to every­ thing. After a lunch with my ... mother during which I could eat very little, I'd taken a quick bath, slicked my hair back, ... before the bathroom mirror. But I'd neglected to close the door, and my mother caught me. ...
Fiction

Red Zone

Kimberly Garza
beyond the park. Perfect spots for catching homers—or for heckling the visiting outfielders. My father ... see buildings in the city where on his good days my father took us shopping. (Naturalmente, I don’t ... ball. Well, most of them can’t. Mine is one who can. My guy is on the mound with that ball in his glove, ...
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Page 67 from Issue 106

Fall 1999
drift and my lamp, imitation in the windowpane. I can imagine it all from my desk, imagine this pen in ... my mother's touch, so feathery it didn't shape the nib; for so long I claimed my ... father's traits, good with his hands and a dreamer, but I know different as I read my mother's ...
Nonfiction

Orientation

Marc Nieson
on my head atop a hillside somewhere in the Midwest, and I am not dreaming. What I am doing is trying ... recognize. My bare toes dangle into the froth of clouds and soon a pair of hawks floats by, belly-up, ... revealing white underwings. I dig my brow into the grass, searching for a better hold. What with the earth ...
Nonfiction

Ascent

Harrison Candelaria Fletcher
Mountains. Legs tangled in black twine, throat clogged with fishing line, it burrowed its head into my ... owl arrived on Beggar’s Night in my big brother’s jacket, after he found a nest shot full of holes in ... Mountains, the owl slept in the shade, near my mother, tethered to a piñon branch with turquoise yarn. One ...
Fiction

Piecing

Tara Isabel Zambrano
away, prop pillows. The navy tie rubs between my breasts. The steam from the nonstick iron hisses. You ... old letters. There’s a notebook of your ghazals. I run my fingers over the blue velvet cover. It’s as ... I nod and go back to the menu. From my gut, something rises to my throat. It’s seven pm, and I wonder if ...
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Page 191 from Issue 85

thought of doing the same as I was doing now, but he hadn't dared. I took my hand from the wall. ... My heart was beating softly, placated at once. I turned back toward the window: I couldn't ... room to get my clothes from the closet in the adjacent room. The hallway was illuminated as if by its ...
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Page 324 from Issue 20

bitterness rising in me? My hands are trembling. It was no good, no good. In that other world there are ... "Ronald!" I look around automatically. It is my friend-my best friend-hurrying over to me. He must have ... Is my face correct, is it myoId face? Will he see anything in it? What about my cut hand? I manage to ...

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