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.

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…

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…

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…