Mikki Aronoff

In “Settle and Slake,” author Mikki Aronoff tackles anxieties radiating from our modern conceptions and images of “the slippery slope” of aging. In her author’s note, she confides that when given a writing prompt, her brain “runs out and feels its way into a story.” This sense of speed is palpable in her masterfully crafted descriptions and quick turns of phrase. They crash, collide, and slide into each other throughout the micro, creating a sense of movement.

“I’ve got the ennuis,” he says rummaging through my utensil drawer, his words slowing like cold molasses. He finds the vegetable peeler, eyeballs the blade for dried up bits of carrot. “I do wash my dishes,” I tell him. “And you don’t strip the skin off dried figs. That’s just dumb.” Two years ago, my brother started showing up on my doorstep Saturdays, when Ellen, his wife, shopped at the mall with her girlfriends.

by Mikki Aronoff This is not yesterday’s wither and whimper. Today I float inside a misty halo highlighting my Word for the Day: eupeptic. In a conspiracy of kindness, the hallway mirror plays life coach, spoon-feeds me a porridge of affirmations. Like your jacket. Lookin’ fine. Go get ‘em! I pack paper, pens, tablet. Outside, gray. The locust tree sighs a shower of gold. Crows glide down, skitter on sun-baked clay.