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Sestina for SabaBy Noa Nir QuailBellMagazine.com When my father’s father was hungry, he’d peel himself an orange.
I’d watch from the kitchen table as the juice ran down his fingers, hoping, knowing that he would give me half. “Are you hungry, sweetie?” he’d say, rinsing his hands with warm water. He always knew the answer. “Ask me nicely,” he’d say. “Use your words.” The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
ExistentialBy Emily Marchant QuailBellMagazine.com I would rather be anything than a Millennial
there is a God, I know this a higher power exists. One with a sense of humor I am living proof— I am the evidence of the almighty The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Temple City Listens to OrlandoTemple City listens to Orlando
Neon wraps temple spires glowing against the dusk of vacancy. It’s here we claim The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
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power in the bloodBy Jill Crainshaw QuailBellMagazine.com aunt gertrude played the antique upright in church every sunday
sometimes by ear sometimes the old-timey way reading notes shaped like diamonds or triangles but the hymn she cherished most her fingers knew by heart power in the blood |