creative writing – Jessahme Wren

The Kitchen Table

My aunt Bren died in 2014. We spent a great deal of time together—indeed, she was like a second mother […]

My bookshelf has long been a point of quiet contention for me. For one thing, I’m not an aesthetic reader.

The oak in my backyard has stood for over a hundred years. I often find myself wondering what it has

My granny used to tell me that girls once kept sweet shrub blossoms in their pockets in place of perfume.

My Aunt Bren had a green thumb, among many other talents. She could cook, too—despite her denials. I never ate

In the reading community, a TBR is the pile of books you haven’t read yet—but want to. It’s often forgotten

My Aunt Bren loved marigolds. Every year, without fail, she would hand-till the soil of her flower beds, lovingly preparing

The sun sets over the ridgeand I feel protected, tucked in.Sherbet ribbons trickle through thin woods,over the sloping land,warming the

I like to paint. I used to paint quite a lot as a teenager, and then some in college. After

By Carl Sandburg The fog comeson little cat feet.It sits lookingover harbor and cityon silent haunchesand then moves on.