Author: laurenalwan

Sunday Dinner, by Diane Pickett In the Deep South, religion was practiced every Sunday, and dinner at Mama’s was just as important as the sermon—and sometimes better attended. Many a churchgoer longed not only for salvation but was convinced it resided in that pot of chicken and dumplings or plate of fried chicken, buttered biscuits … Continue reading Americana Stories, The Food Court—Nonfiction

Harvest, by Jess Woolford Jess Woolford is a writer, critic, and editor whose poetry appears in Book of Matches, Text Power Telling Magazine, The Ecological Citizen, Prairie Fire Magazine, Contemporary Verse 2, The Winnipeg Free Press, and elsewhere. Raised in Vermont, Woolford now lives and writes on Treaty 1 Territory in Winnipeg, Manitoba.  To view … Continue reading Americana Stories—Poetry

The Meat of My Youth, by Dina Elenbogen Little girl at a table with fruit. Romuald Kamil Witkowski, 1908. National Museum Warsaw At dinner, I’d tuck the half-chewed pieces of meat under my plate so that I’d be allowed to leave the table. I didn’t trust my mother’s roast the same way I didn’t trust … Continue reading Americana Stories, The Food Court—Essay

Ode to a Calumet Can, by Joseph DuPre “Close can tightly and store in a dry place.” ~~~ Joseph DuPre (he/him) is a rising poet and English teacher from the upper state of South Carolina. Having graduated from Clemson University in the Spring of 2019, Joseph holds degrees in English and Secondary Education; much of … Continue reading Americana Stories, The Food Court—Poetry

Flea Market Concessions, by Anne Graue After my third spinal surgery, I walk unbalancedthrough antiques, looking for Lu-Ray, Wedgwood,anything royal from England or Germany, evenAustria if I’m lucky. Japanese luster- and transfer-warecatch my eye. The roasting smell of cashews in sugar-cinnamon coating emanates from a boothnext to lemonade—fresh and sweet. They deep fry cheesecake, Oreos, … Continue reading Americana Stories, The Food Court—Poetry

Freshman Year, by Helen Chen At the turn of May, Home is a subway ride between rooms completely my own, stories I don’t tell anyone back home, that pass around  the dinner table. Don’t be a guest grandma says, shaking the pan. I canceled plans with myself, take a nap to eat fried eggs, lettuce … Continue reading Americana Stories, The Food Court—Poetry

Side quest, by Emma McCoy for Gracie  No one could ever convince me food isn’t being, living,something like red thread tying, tying, tying peoplearound the ankles, or thigh, somewhere they don’t look.Look, at Jesus: “this bread is my body.” Or look, at weddings:food-laden tables. Look, at Rome: “panem et circus.” Look, at ritual: unleavened bread, fairy … Continue reading Americana Stories, The Food Court—Poetry

The author with her mother, father, and aunt, circa 1969 Farmer John’s breakfast sausage smelled like divorce. As a child, the aroma of all that hot grease in a cast iron pan was both delightful and terrifying.  Mom would pull the tidy pack of sausages from the refrigerator, the little fingers snuggled close to each … Continue reading American Breakfast  |  صبحانه آمریکای, by Mahru Elahi

Amador County Festival, by Tim Kahl Dance around the tarantula in the grass during the encoreafter all the giant turkey legs have vanished.Throw back a plastic glass of mead and submit tothe beat the best way anyone could imagine.One of the vendors has already revealed how tosnatch a concrete dragon from a poured mold, how … Continue reading Americana Stories—Poetry

Emily All Round Me, by Mark Saunders I lay a Place— although—I know you won't be near— I speak out loud in Hope—in bolts of Pique— in awe—it could be Dying's parlorgame— addressed— behind a Door.It could be your name—"Calling"—pushed narrowly ajar—or you— uncomprehendingwithin— Sunrise paned— afar.If Time and Continentscould be stitched— sewn tightly—over sea— … Continue reading Americana Stories—Poetry