Literary Arts

Climb the stairs. Take the call. Stand by the old green chair. Don’t sit down. Hear your mother say It’s cancer. Don’t answer right away. Clamp down your fear before you speak. Grip the green...

In August heat, the urge to be misplaced can find you standing on the sidewalk, disoriented, holding someone else’s photos by mistake. Trying to place that cottage, that sandy porch. Before...

Fear is in your bread and you must choke it down. To think of home— the courtyard with its red filigreed rug, the peel-paint walls, how the breeze with its tang of...

He spoke seven languages and was never allowed to leave the country. He’d gone to school in Paris, which made him an enemy of the people. I’m sorry, but...

Ed. Note: Another in our series of poems by writers who participated in Arlington Writers Resist. My anthem is the serenade of birds, sung without regard for map lines delineating...