Ritual My grandmother reads coffee grounds with two hands she holds blue and red flowers of the Turkish coffee cup.…
Artist, poet, and freelance writer, J.I. Kleinberg is a Best of the Net and Pushcart nominee. Her found poems have appeared…
What if your job I fooled myself for years that all the jobs I worked were better than one long…
Memory Care Tonight I tell Mom about the time I took a ride from a stranger, locked my sister out…
Recipe for Petite Macaroons Mars ate everything that Apollo left --Edmond Rostand I make you macaroons for the last…
morning fitful sleep and the echo of footfall down the hall the scarf of…
Night Stillness Bangkok, Rainy Season Silence in its silver light pours across my garden wall through this monsoon break—a cloud-feathered…
You Find Yourself in Kansas City among house-proud women and men who are mean with money to rent an apartment,…
To My Great-Grandmother Hattie Burton Harris (1865-1922) You, whose first words are Yiddish, who travels as a toddler from the…
Who are these People? There's no bringing these great grandparents back, not Neil, not Margaret, immigrants from Scotland, married at…