Quilted Heritage

by Susan J. Wurtzburg

Old patched quilts hanging over a ladder in a sun-filled corner of the bedroom.
The most colorful one, perhaps a hundred years old, is surprisingly intact.
Its white background interspersed with patterned fabric vibrantly abloom,
delicately repaired by my grandmother, whose tiny stitches can be tracked.
Sewn by hand, a dying skill, women gifting their eyesight to a family’s warmth.
In this manner, heavy cotton quilts map the genealogy of relationships in the north. Continue reading

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The Other Indians

by Julieta Vitullo

With the dining room now closed, Nabil joined the last guests at their table while they dipped cold spoonfuls of rice in the leftover curries. They were a red-headed young man in a tie-dye shirt, and two blondes who looked like sisters. An odd lamp sat on the shelf above their table. Earlier that night, the young man had asked Nabil if there was a story behind it. Nabil had said to wait until closing. Now, the few sounds that remained from the East Village roar faded into the vibrations of a sitar coming from the dining room stereo. It was time.  Continue reading

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What persistent creature

by Peter Grandbois

There is only this hollow
tree shaped from fear Continue reading

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Ode to the Color of Monsters

by Joy Luh

Silver. It was everywhere. Always. A flash of the underside of a bird’s wing as it caught an updraft. The color left behind when a fly is there then gone. Maybe the reflection of a passing plane in a puddle, whose stillness has yet to be disturbed. Everywhere. Perhaps the color that someone with synesthesia would see to accompany a sweet note. It was the small things, the dots floating around in his vision that he could never quite catch. The color that went hand in hand with the sound of a ring dropping onto a cold and unforgiving floor. The color, or what he imagined the color to be, of the varying screws and bolds and plates all wound up in his body. Continue reading

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Fiasco

by Susana H. Case

On vacation in Niagara Falls,
he rips feathers from pillows
in the middle of the night, rains
white birds all over the bed.
This is not the first time Continue reading

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