Pretend // Tricia Knoll
Let’s play spaceship in this generously decorated refrigerator box which pretends to guard against heat, meteors, and news flashes about dead friends.
Seeing Him // R.A. Morean
When he died, he left his face behind. Not just in photo albums or in frames centered on walls, or in the soft feathery folds of early morning dreams, but concretely. Like now.
Infant Of // Patricia Knight Meyer
“At thirty-eight, you want to find her?”
My mother is stewing in her wheelchair, pulled up alongside the bar in what she calls her “shithole shoebox” senior-living apartment. Although she still walks short distances, she likes how the footrests of her wheelchair rise to meet her feet, accommodating her short legs, “which don’t go all the way up,” she sometimes jokes.