my mother outstretches in the garden with a thumb through hardened dirt. i study her softness tracing leaflines painted deep into her temples. i
Reviewed by Susan Azar Porterfield “I make no excuses…. I’m a writer./I can’t help but tell you how it was….” These lines appear in
Welcome to Volume 26, Issue 6 of Cider Press Review. In this issue of Cider Press Review, we notice the duality of coming together