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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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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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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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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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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