Two pomegranates and a person in ski clothing

Quick Work No. 10

Posted Posted in Blog
Quick Work: Short Takes on Epic Truths

Here, in micro-flash nonfiction, writers make quick work of compelling stories.

Border Collie on a beach, wet and smiling

The Existential Wisdom of Border Collies

by Jones Irwin

A veteran winter swimmer, Cathy, suited up, dives in with her Border Collie, Rossi. 

Rossi, his black and white coat soaked through, remembers previous masters who didn’t appreciate his exuberant energy, who tried to beat the happiness out of his hardy body. 

I’ve chosen not to invest in a wet suit as, frankly, they look ridiculous. My extremities feel like they are going to fall off, and not just my hands. 

Rossi, healed by Cathy and the waves, knows that none of us are here for very long, and we might as well die by extremity as by anything else.

Photo by C Perret on Unsplash

Perons in colorful plaid jacket and ski goggles

Winter Season

by Sharon Goldberg

I sling my skis over my right shoulder, the non-arthritic one. They’re girlie skis with green and yellow polka dots, the edges sharp to carve turns through hard-packed snow and ice, the bottoms freshly waxed to glide through soft snow and powder. My bindings are calibrated to release if I take a major tumble. A neoprene brace anchors my funky left knee. I’m no expert or daredevil, but I have taken risks. Will I today? I feel the flutter that proceeds my first run of the morning. I’m sixty-six, but I like to think I haven’t peaked yet. 

Photo courtesy of the author


Solo Trip to Mamani, 1995

by Maria Luisa Arroyo Cruzado

Two pomegranates on dark cloth with a black background

Among bobbing black chadors and bearded men in the Khomeini Airport, I hear Mamani’s  “Maria-jan!” She rushes, embraces me, her daughter-in-law.
*
Later, Mamani and her daughters laugh as I reach toward salamanders skittering up cement walls. Palm huge pomegranates. Fumble with the chador slipping from my head like rain.
*
I was 28, and months before my trip, Mamani lost the man she loved. Her only living son had named Mamani’s brother the executor of the world she was not allowed to claim.
*
At supper, when I praised her cooking, Mamani asked me: What else do I have?

Photo by Cath Smith on Unsplash


About the Writers

Multilingual Boricua poet & intersectional feminist educator María Luisa Arroyo Cruzado writes about her experiences with the four cultures and languages that inform her identity and her creativity: Puerto Rican Spanish, American English, German, and Farsi.

Sharon Goldberg is a Seattle writer whose work has appeared in anthologies and literary magazines, including The Gettysburg Review, New Letters, The Louisville Review, Cold Mountain Review, River Teeth, Jellyfish Review, Southern Indiana Review and Gargoyle.

Jones Irwin describes himself as a postmodern existentialist, a dash of noir mixed in with a progressivist ethic. He teaches Philosophy and Education in Dublin, Republic of Ireland, and writes across the genres of philosophy, fiction and poetry.


The Quick Work series is curated by Multiplicity Executive Editor, Kate Whouley.

Quick Work lettering, a person looking out a window, and yellow shopping carts

Quick Work No. 9

Posted Posted in Blog
Quick Work: Short Takes on Epic Truths

Here, in micro-flash nonfiction, writers make quick work of compelling stories.

Black and white photo of person looking out a window with their chin resting in their hand

Ages and Ages

by Linda McCullough Moore

Every age a different state. 
I write to you today from Utah. 
Last night, as evening fell 
they put me on the train. 
That sullen gulley of the day, 
old crickets starting up in earnest, 
swelter of late summer’s day 
no match for sudden, not unwelcome, 
wind, and then, a different darkness.
By sun-up, here arrived at one 
more age, new state, new bird, 
a different governor, some brand 
new state motto I will need to learn; 
very likely something about freedom, 
probably in Latin.

Photo by Daniele Levis Pelusi on Unsplash

Photo of yellow shopping carts stacked together in a wet parking lot

In the Night

by Matthew Berg

Rising to the handle, my feet planted on the bottom bar. Elbows extending outward as wings. A way is made down the row between the cars. Pushing the cart as a scooter, greater speeds are achieved. Flying, though still on the ground. In the night, by the lights of the store parking lot. The child inside says, Enjoy! I do.

A way is made through it all, flying together, the child and the adult, redefining freedom, and living in the night.

Photo by Clark Young on Unsplash


About the Writers

Linda McCullough Moore is a poet and the author of story collections, a novel, an essay collection, and more than 350 shorter works. Her many awards include the Pushcart Prize. www.lindamcculloughmoore.com

Matthew Berg is a renaissance man: husband, father, working writer, and follower of Jesus. Originally from the Midwest, he is now living in the South.


The Quick Work series is curated by Multiplicity Executive Editor, Kate Whouley.