Archived entries for Dyana Herron

Bible Thumping

By Dyana Herron

The Bible hit her in the back of the head and she whipped around in shock, blood drained from her face, tears pooling in her eyes. Continue Reading …

Traditional New Year’s Food

By Dyana Herron

The magic key—and center of the meal—is black-eyed peas, which came to signify prosperity because of how they swell as they cook. Continue Reading …

Heading Home on the Back Roads

By Dyana Herron

Here’s the hard part. We aren’t taught how to go back. We’re taught to move forward, toward something better, as quickly and efficiently as we can. Continue Reading …

Teaching and Seeing

By Dyana Herron

Not yet a month into the semester, my students and I move cautiously around one another like two parties in an arranged marriage, still unsure of what kindnesses or cruelties the other is capable. Continue Reading …

Poetry as Balance Beam

By Dyana Herron

Flat-chested and well-muscled, with hair pulled back into strict ponytails or buns, the gymnasts looked at once prepubescent and adult. Continue Reading …

I Thought I Saw It

By Dyana Herron

As an adult, I understand that a gorilla living in the deciduous forests of Southeast TN is all but impossible. But what did I see, then? Continue Reading …

Epithalamium

By Dyana Herron

My first wedding took place on November 1st, 2003, All Saints’ Day, exactly two years after my fiancé proposed to me in a Waffle House parking lot, before we’d ever even kissed, and I said yes. I was twenty-one, old enough at least to legally have a glass of champagne at the reception. Continue Reading …

Family Recipe

By Dyana Herron

Although David and I stopped eating most meat around six months ago, we decided to bake a ham for Easter dinner. Perhaps because, since we were celebrating the holiday alone, we wanted to feel connected to our families through a traditional meal. Continue Reading …

Smoke Break

By Dyana Herron

After I’ve peeled the plastic protective layer off the nicotine patch and am holding the flesh-colored circle above the actual, paler flesh of David’s forearm, careful not to touch the sticky medicated part with my fingers, I pause. Continue Reading …

Water and Oil

By Dyana Herron

Water: we think of it all the time. This is perhaps especially true of me, born a Baptist, an Aquarius, and a weeper. A Baptist, dipped into the carp-thick Conasauga river. An Aquarius, water bearer. A weeper, sloshing water from the bucket of the soul. Continue Reading …



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