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Charlotte sits on the bottom stair,small legs swinging, as her sistersets the box of crayons beside her,right within reach, all those temptingrainbow points. Ella’s face, closein hers, insists: “You must neverever crayon on the walls.”Charlotte nods seriously.Never ever. Afterwards, Charlotte sits on the couch,small legs swinging, as her sisterhelps theirContinue Reading

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A girl scooped up a caterpillar and put it in a mason jarwith some dirt and grass and leaves.For a week it pedaled around aimlessly and then stopped.For another week the girl left the rigid fluffy circle segmenton her window sill. She tried to figure outwhy the caterpillar died butContinue Reading

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She walked barefooted each step grazing the sinking sand, her sandals hung over her shoulders with the support of her clumsy hand, holding a plastic bottle in the other. She walked past a couple smiling into each other’s eyes, hands intertwined, shoulders slightly brushing. She could tell they were obliviousContinue Reading

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The substitute teacher made another attempt at my name. I’m not paying attention and I miss it. He’s wearing a vest. There is a stain on his vest. After roll call, he singles me out. “Miss DuckArmy, I called your name twice.” Maybe there was mustard on his breakfast sandwich.Continue Reading

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On a rickety dock that juts out into an Adirondack lake, my father, a big man, turns around so abruptly that he bumps me into the cold water, and I’m face down and so fascinated with the sand that I don’t think to breathe. I’m three years-old, and the lakeContinue Reading

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You better not runGrandmother says. Off they go like firetruckssounding the alarm with wild laughteras they tear down the hallwaywith grandmother behind chasingwith her heavy steps after their light onesroaring like a dinosaur Lynette G. Esposito, MA Rutgers, has been published in Poetry Quarterly, North of Oxford, Twin Decades, RememberedContinue Reading

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Our swing set is regarded with awe by the entire neighborhood – a country neighborhood with five-acre lots and dairy farms. The swing set is an enormous structure whose concrete footers are as solid as the steel plant where my father, an engineer, manages the laborers who work in theContinue Reading

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My earliest memoryI was maybe 2 or 3On a beach in MazatlánWith an assortment of family. A long stone staircaseThin and windingAscended the beachDisappeared in the city. At the top of the stairsWas an ice cream shopI longed to visitBut hated climbingThe myriad of steps. The trek was dauntingAnd IContinue Reading

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My name means dirt and my brother’s, son of God.Not that he is a saint nor I an angel. I learned to love the smell of mudplaying in a fort constructed by our father out of plastic sheets. Rescue, my brother’s favorite board gameis about War,yet he was the oneContinue Reading