Wandering the aisles of my neighborhood supermarket, the kind of place Don DeLillo once wrote evoked “a sense of replenishment … and fullness of being,” I tread cautiously out of suspicion and respect for the potential “airborne toxic event” that is the coronavirus pandemic. As the world continues to pass milestones of Covid infections, I…
Author: Porridge Magazine
TWO POEMS – Tim Kiely
the cake is made of Walthamstow
a dense and glutinous Walthamstow
we are going to make Walthamstow
a Titanic success for Walthamstow
Back Home in Old Kentucky – Bailey Vandiver
Kentucky governor Happy Chandler once said Kentuckians are always either coming home or thinking about coming home. On the day that tornadoes devastated my home state, I was longing to be home. It was December 11, 2021, and I woke up in a New York City hotel room to the news that tornadoes had ripped…
COMFORT FOODS // What’s for Dinner? The Friday Night Table in Ashkenazi Culture — Hannah-Clare de Gordun
Through this shared language, seen in the celebration of Shabbat at our round dinner table, we create a “home”, a space of belonging, for a culture that has frequently been forcefully ripped from its physical roots.
ONE POEM – Claire Sosienski Smith
paring knife, won’t use it to make
the pierogi. The potato goes
soft in the microwave,
the onion falls apart
and fries itself.
ONE POEM – Noemi Gunea
I wanted you so much
I started making things up
Scheherazade — Lydia Waites
He studies me for a second before facing the road again, his jaw set. My breath is caught in my throat. I clear it, arranging my thoughts. It was just an outburst, a loss of patience: I am safe.
Fiachaire — Shannen Malone
“We can’t take it all,” her brother had said, tossing memories in a bin bag like kittens for drowning.
ONE POEM – Hideko Sueoka
Bright rays reflect, shape, shake her portrait on the water skin
and it’s broken, burnt, soon gone.
ONE POEM – Bernadette Gallagher
Get some hens
dig up the garden
sow and plant.
ONE POEM — Judith Amanthis
From the yew-dark wool you pulled
over my eyeball,
knit one, maul one,
you made a beam
ONE POEM — Matthew Moniz
But Jesus never saved the birds. A bird
has never sinned. They have no need for grace,
salvation, guilt, contrition, holy words,
Porridge 