Rachael McGuire Meek > Writing | WritersCafe.org

After you’d picked them clean as bones, and lapped Their blood up with your tongue like a sponge absorbs water, You came in, panting, awai..

At seven years I dipped my head for those Who spun religious sentiments to gold, But as I aged, a new desire arose: To question everything that..

When I happened upon the photograph of the entrance taken in late 1940, I was greeted by an imposing steel sign raised above a locked prison..

Your breath smells like picnic food rotting in a park trash bin, like the early morning air at a New York fish market, like a Jack Russell terr..

My toddler stoops over, holding the front of his pants, thrashing like he’s entered a modern dance competition in the grocery store ..

To look at the house now, I suppose you’d never know I tended the crops every day with my father And spent my evenings repairing the holes..

Aunt Mary: I’m reminded of Sunday afternoons spent working your Mini Pages puzzles with my cousins, of occasions when you’d..