About Grace Marotta

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So far Grace Marotta has created 77 blog entries.


Elizabeth Jaeger

I am trying desperately to pretend that today is not Ash Wednesday, but I have not been very successful. There was a time I looked forward to Lent. True, it’s been years since I went to service to get ashes—at best, I’m a lapsed Christian. When my son was younger, I made an effort to bring him to church. For several years, I was good about it. But then after one summer, it was too hard to go back. Being active in church required me to be social, […]



Allie Coppola

I have pink eye. At least, I think I do. And if I don’t already, I will soon. I can feel the little leggy bacteria marching along the rim of my lower eyelid, thrusting their germy arms, pumping their microbial fists as they exert a final bacterial battle cry before completing the conjunctivitis coup of my conjunctiva. They are here. These bacterial bastards, ready to ravage my eyeball and tickle my tear ducts, are mating and multiplying and personifying before (and within) my very eyes. I can picture them clearly: […]


Six Degrees of Separation

Nicole Drakopoulos

The telling of this story comes in different versions. There are my recreations: fallible, beautiful, and naive. There is a truth: unattainable, likely nonexistent. There’s his version, muted. There’s a version written in the heat and pain of our separation. Words flowing from a place of desperation, scribbled onto a page to hold onto him, onto us, to prevent our reality from dissolving into a fading memory. Much of that writing is raw, desperate, repetitive. These words were therapy, a way of making sense of a person I […]

Six Degrees of Separation2021-06-11T01:19:50+00:00

To Drown One’s Guilt in a Stream of Consciousness: An Examination of Ian McEwan’s Atonement as Trauma Narrative

Sarah Ang

Cathy Caruth’s seminal work Unclaimed Experience: Trauma, Narrative and History suggests that at the centre of trauma narratives lies “a kind of double telling…between the story of the unbearable nature of an event and the story of the unbearable nature of its survival” (Caruth, 1996, 7). This ‘double telling’ is at the heart of Ian McEwan’s Atonement, which revolves around the tragic mistake of the thirteen-year-old protagonist, Briony Tallis, accusing her sister’s lover wrongfully of rape, the drastic repercussions that […]

To Drown One’s Guilt in a Stream of Consciousness: An Examination of Ian McEwan’s Atonement as Trauma Narrative2021-06-11T01:19:24+00:00

16 Shots

Monica Fuglei

On the night on Oct. 14, 2014, the CPD responded to a report of a man carrying a knife walking in the street. When they confronted Laquan, he sliced the tires of a patrol car with a 3-inch knife. In response, Jason Van Dyke—who was on the scene for less than 30 seconds—shot Laquan from 10 feet away as Laquan was walking away. The bullet spun the teen’s body around and knocked him to the ground.

Then Van Dyke fired into Laquan’s […]

16 Shots2021-06-11T01:18:16+00:00

Abstraction of a Memory

James Bradley

The plucking of a lone, slender
Silver hair—a fair postponement
Of the aging process? Deep lines
Will ever score the dry, shrunken

Brow of the crumbling facade of
The temple once called Beautiful
Inscribe grotesquery (mockingly)
On youthfulness & longevity

The elongating shadows of
Small-leaved linden in full bloom blot
The thoroughfare like […]

Abstraction of a Memory2021-06-11T01:17:40+00:00

Behind the Monument

Max Stone

Ungodly, aching for a while.
Why isn’t this sufficient?
Little sips of pain.
I knew how freely the cold air
would let him hold me.
Kept shoulders hunched,
holding myself as grudge.
This evening my body could drop
like a turkey vulture from the sky.
Transient scavenger: it’s the family bird.
We see them all the time.

Behind the Monument2021-06-11T01:17:01+00:00

Not Running

Pamela Hobart Carter

Last week with my daughter, I ran the track
at Hiawatha, unable again to count laps with accuracy.
What is this inability, this absence
of connection to a simple reality
played over a few slow circles around
a tiny area? Was that four or five times passing
the young family in the sideline gravel
under the landmarked oak? My mental tangles
begin […]

Not Running2021-06-11T01:16:29+00:00

Pink October

Eli Coyle

Cancer arrived in your house
under the cloud cover of rain
blotting May across paper hearts

I tended to the thoughts of you as morning glory
blooming from the rounded hills
of green mounded graves

Watching as the leafs floated and filled
with water in the rainstorms
leaking chemo from tea bags

I let you die over and over
each month every moon 

They cut your breasts from you
under the morning shadows of October

Pink October2021-06-11T01:15:52+00:00

Rancho San Raphael Walking Meditation

Eli Coyle

I haven’t left the house in a week
Winter is peeling open the insides
Of death and love
Two gifts left unopened

I ease eastward against the east slope of the Sierra
Shrouded in a million imaginary birds
Fifty dogs in the dog park
The playground left vacant
Five hundred kids on Zoom
Walking north, slight west
Towards the pine tree broken
Its spirit wished to be deciduous
Naked and unnerved
In the canopies of ganglia

Rancho San Raphael Walking Meditation2021-06-11T01:15:23+00:00