Microwork – I Am Afraid

I am afraid of writing new poems, because My older, stronger poems might gang up To push these weedy weaklings off the page Those words that are too young to speak for themselves Kerry Kidd is a keen walker, reader and traveller. She finds micropoems are a delicate verbal photograph with which to capture life’s…

Issue 13.4 – Nonfiction

I am seeking small mercies, this word that pushes the breath out slowly and pulls at the corners of your mouth like stay or sleep. When I imagine my mother through the eyes of the policeman who brought her into the station on a Friday afternoon, I invent small mercies between them. I think of…

Issue 13.4 – Fiction

For more than a year, a ghost lived in our house. Every morning I would see her in our lemon-yellow kitchen — standing at the sink, gazing out the window at the bird feeder, reading the newspaper at the dinette. When she saw me, she would vanish. She stayed until Halloween, until my tiny six-year-old…

Issue 13.4 – Poetry

You never told me to remember, impress upon my mind, my childhood days with you So, I didn’t know I would only retain memory pieces of the life we lived together I never stopped to think you might not be here tomorrow Did it cross your mind you might not watch your daughters grow up?…

Serial – Little River: Vol 2 – Ch

The crunching of leaves underfoot was one of Josiah’s favorite sounds. Along with the bird calls and the wind blowing through the trees, the sound meant he was where he wished he could spend all his time—the woods. He felt most at peace when he was walking under the trees. Peace was what he wanted…

Microwork – Less is More

“Less is more,” said the eagle, sky high. A bellyful of food grazed below, Pinsized. He dropped. It grew fat, then disappeared. Kerry Kidd is a keen walker, reader and traveller. She finds micropoems are a delicate verbal photograph with which to capture life’s changing perspectives.

Issue 13.3 – Nonfiction

“Are you sure they’re not here in your room?” I called at a mock-whisper. “I’m sure!” Marvin followed me into the room, the door creaking behind him. “It’ll be a big wad. It’s a lot of keys. I looked in every drawer, but maybe your eyes are better.” He stood over me, absentmindedly wringing his…

Issue 13.3 – Fiction

The woman was a mother, daughter, wife, a small-business owner, a fashion designer, a social maven, daughter-in-law, friend, employer, dog mother. She was also a part-time bougainvillea tree which bloomed fuchsia and vermillion and white. **  The only person in the world who knew her secret was the gardener. There was little point in hiding…

Issue 13.3 – Poetry

How I wished to be his cat. I would purr against him, he would pet me He would give me food and water. I would come to him when he was naked on his bed And rub my fur against his belly He would keep me in the house with him He wouldn’t blame me…

Serials – Little River: Vol 2 – Ch 8

Brady’s truck tires screeched as he took the corner into his sister’s subdivision a little too fast. He wasn’t sure why he was so angry. He had no idea if Lexi’s crazy questions had any root in reality, but the uneasiness in his gut made him feel sick. He had learned over the years that,…