Summer 2016

Agent of Providence

Roma Downey glows on the television screen, her angel touch dispensed, the plot line closed. I have muted the sound as my mother drifts toward sleep. We shiver in the bare, temporary room where she has come for transfusion. I drowse over my coffee.

The Great Flood

Hazard, Kentucky is no different than a hundred rural towns started as a trading post, funded by coal that turned lungs and hands dark at the start of the twentieth century. And while I love the story of Hazard folk making the Stone Gap journey, having to go over Big…

Junebug

From the kitchen window I can see two little girls lying in my yard like small sacks of brightly-dressed potatoes. My daughter June is walking among them, followed by another girl struggling with my wheelbarrow. June is draping one prone girl with a sheet, my good sheets, given to us…

Gifts of the South

An Eclipse The moon, red like fat dripping from the porterhouse side of the T-Bone, an American God in its own rites. Beef moon, nurturing our ebb and flow with hands that knead us to tenderness and umami. Then, a cleanse, clean as gin straight up tasting like clear night…

Warble

It’s a warble,” said her Uncle Ted. “See em in squirrels sometimes.” He drew on his cigarette and Leena watched its smoke spread out like fog around her mother’s face. It was a typical summer Saturday afternoon, she and her mother “baking,” as her mother called it, in deck chairs…