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Submissions Meet the Editor-in-Chief March 2016 Meet the Associate Editor July 2016 November 2015 January 2012 Book Review - Lyn Lifshin's "Ballroom" September 2016 May 2014 Book Review: Amy Holman's Wrens Fly Through This Opened Window July 2012 Book Review: Kit Kennedy Reviews Heller Levinson September 2012 Book Review - Patricia Carragon Reviews Leigh Harrison November 2012 January 2013 March 2013 Book Review - Dean Kostos "Rivering" May 2013 Book Review: Hochman Reviews Ormerod Summer Issue 2013 September 2013 McMaster Reviews Szporluk January 2014 July/August 2014 November 2014 Book Review: Wright Reviews Gardner Stern Reviews Katrinka Moore May 2015 Hochman Reviews Ross July 2015 Tocco Reviews Simone September 2015 Simone Reviews Cefola May 2016 Bledsoe Reviews Wallace November 2016 January 2017 Custom Rich-Text Page

When my husband's wto grown daughters are in town, the three of them go to the movies, or

play pool. Share dinner every night. Stay out late. I haven't seen my stepdaughters since my

son's funeral in 2007. When people ask, I say nice things about the girls, as if we had a

relationship. When people ask if I have children I change the subject. Or I lie, and say no. Or

sometimes I put them on the spot and tell them yes, but he died. They look aghast and want to

know what happened. Then I have to tell them about the cancer.


Sometimes, when the older daughter, his favorite, is in town, and she and my husband are out

together night after night, I wonder what it would be like if that was me, and my boy, if life

was fair, and rather tahn my husband having two children and I, none, we each had one living child.

His choice which one to keep.


Lately when people ask, I want to lie and say yes, my son is a basketball coach; he married

a beautiful Iranian model with kind eyes, and they live in London with their twin girls who visit

every summer, the same twins his girlfriend aborted. with my blessing when my son was

eighteen, deemed too young for fatherhood, and everyone said there would be all the time in the