Rosaleen Lynch
Words I had to explain to you and for you made the past a cornucopia dream, one you try to capture at night, like a firefly trying to catch the light.
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Eileen Frankel Tomarchio
Your usual carrel but no you. For days. Weeks. Me looking at the doors whenever someone enters. Months.
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Sarai Abram
The year that Sovereignty outruns Journalism in the Kentucky Derby, my Mother cusses for the first time. She blames it on OPI changing the chemical formula for Cajun Shrimp nail polish, but I wasn’t born yesterday.
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