Originally from Kansas, Ann Graham has lived in Texas for nearly forty years. Her MFA in painting and drawing continues to inform her writing practice. She attended the Squaw Valley Community of Writers workshop and has been published by Grey Sparrow Journal, Digging Through the Fat, The Oddville Press, and the Panther City Review. Her writing prompt book, Ready, Set, Go Write, is available online, and…

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I settle into reading the menu at the Main Street Bakery in Grapevine waiting for Kathleen Rodgers.  She enters the cozy lit bistro, all energy and enthusiasm. We smile and hug, glad to see each other. The last time we met here was to plan our tribute/memorial service for a mutual dear friend, Drema Berkheimer who passed…

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Barbara Shinn is a retired pathologist who is still trying to figure out what she wants to be when she grows up. She has long resided in Dallas, but it should be the Carolina coast. Pistachio is her favorite shade of ice cream. My sister says I remember nothing.Echoes of locker room ridicule,prom night solitude,the…

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The organ played – harshly, sadly and slowIt would render a solemn tune, muted by a distant black crowAlone in the field the bird cackled aloudDrawing glares and scowls from the dwindling crowd The mourners shift and stretch, yearning for the service to be doneThey are sustaining their gaze ahead, toward the bright shining sunNow…

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When you are only 3 or 4 the terror will render you frozenMuted from the ability to cry out in fear, From expressing the horror that would be likely to crush you. The figure of a shadow could be seen heading down the hallIts image would obscure the light from the passagewayThat would otherwise reveal…

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She speaks a various language.*                                                Bound in the bardo bereft     vaguely present, almost dead.For fucking shining aloud            let me    back in. Come again, sustaining terrorCarve my shadow on your cave wallsRender me a soul, source me     mystify, crush, obscure me          in your deepest gorge       confine, stretch, reveal me     Let me wobble               stand. Details shift.…

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Emerge shining, misshapen.No more can they confine you. Rise and stretchthe figure once buried, obscure, stinking under history. Escapethe shadow of decency that bound you, open the huge mouth we muted in payment for terror. These details have faded; the young abandon old scrolls, a forgotten fieldof study. In this present, you glory in gray…

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