Fiction: Bedtime Story by Robin Oliveira

In my half-sleep, I hear the tattling sounds of a key unlocking the front door, a tipsy stumble up the stairs, the soft hush of the bathroom door closing, and then the adolescent tell of muffled retching. I surface slowly from unconsciousness, exasperated but relieved that whatever escapade my daughter Caro has been up to …

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Poetry: “To Virginia Woolf,” by Paulette Guerin

Drifting down a long trip to the sea Silk sash swelled with all she did not write Then dips the pen’s sharp silver beads In ink pools, oily spills, across veinless leaves, Each pocket of rocks holding tight Drifting down a long trip to the sea. She chose the tides, a moon guide, not to …