Morning Run

Keep your footing steady, prepared for the slick, the slide, yourflight, your footlessness, your unexpected sky view. Run towards thehazy white clouds, the early sun's pinkish fire, the black ice--alake, a mottled mirror. You know the quiet sidewalk, the barren appletree, the forgotten field. But this sea yearning, this siren call todive deep, feet first, into the glass, the shatter--is undeniable, animmersion, a full body baptism. You suddenly find yourself splayed andshaken, flat on your back, laughing at your air walk, your feet nowhesitant, dull--the morning light cool, the day transparent,expectant.

From Guest Contributor Holiday Goldfarb

The New Continent

Sophia forced her way down to the wharf. After six weeks at sea, she felt nauseous, unholy, drenched. Stepping into the teeming crowd was like her first baptism. Her sins were washed away by the dirt. Sophia was free.

But life on the New Continent never proved that easy. For would be tyrants, her accent was an invitation. Sophia would never be entirely free of her cursed heritage.

Sophia dreamed not for herself, but for her children and grandchildren. She lived in their future, among the accepted, in a world where being descended from Americans was no longer a crime.