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Illustration for Half Like Home

Half Like Home

Something shifted before the wheels left the ground, barely noticeable, as if what was familiar had already begun to recede. What lay ahead had no clear shape yet,…

Twenty Six — illustration for Twenty-Six

Twenty-Six

Twenty-six hours in one place. A place meant for passing through. Lines hold. Bodies stay. Seats fill and empty, then fill again. No place to rest a head.

Hours — illustration for Unfinished Hours

Unfinished Hours

a poem by Kerry Ann Wiley The hours move forward, interrupted by brief, unspoken turns that linger longer than they should. The scenes arrive in sequence: dusk against…

Thirty-Five Minutes (2) — illustration for Thirty-Five Minutes

Thirty-Five Minutes

The light above the stove flickers when she touches the switch. It always does—once, twice, then a low buzz before it stays on. The bulb is new. The fixture is not.

TSA — illustration for The Wheelchair in the Line

The Wheelchair in the Line

The security line advances beneath fluorescent lights. Everything is arranged for flow. People move forward, belongings slide along belts, and decisions are made quickly to keep the system in motion.

Illustration for Brick without Cover

Brick without Cover

A house can be quiet without feeling peaceful. Chairs remain exactly where they were last placed. Doors close completely. Nothing seems out of place. Brick without Cover begins with nothing visibly amiss.

Illustration for The Light They Left

The Light They Left

Time does not move evenly. Some years leave only a trace, while others settle into the objects that are handled again and again. Holiday decorations are among them, brought out, arranged, lived with, then taken down and packed away, growing more delicate and more marked by time.