Chapter 1 The boy hurled forward, propelled by his spindly legs and sheer willpower. Little insect of a thing, a small bag of coins slung around his shoulder. Hurry. We’d told him his mother needed the medicine before the hour turned. We’d told him he could keep the change, too. Hurry. Across the bridge, past […]
The Boy Who Outran the Lie Read More »
Stella’s text telling me about her aunt’s death was the straw that broke my back. I stared at my phone, bewildered by the words on the screen. “Esther died. Call later.” I finally had to take off the blinders and acknowledge a notable change in our relationship. Stella’s dismissive behavior over the last few years
A Shattered Friendship Read More »
I’ll deny the surprise grapefruits if I must.I’ll overpay for a flat whitetaking a selfie with a Sasquatchand its little red Pigand its little red Dog.I yearn for eyeteeth antipastito burn my chest with Castelvetranoand Salsiccia alla Pizzaiola.I love bold Spanish tortillas eatenon heated leather seatsdriving into a storm of money.Money.Money ruins everything.This poem is
“The Sexy Language of bbs” Read More »
I do not breathe longerthan the counts of your name.When teeth meet tongue,will my lovertranslate me insane? Kissed under God’s black belly,we dim the Moon with ignited chest.Spectacle of want floating aimlessly—until hewears my nightgown and mixesInfant’s design with Inventor’s mind. We lay unphased by biased Fateas if idle wind mangled painand endurance into one
“Phased by Biased Fate” Read More »
Dwelling Place I walk into the four-walledwheelhouse of a post office withan armful of boxes thinking about howI am going to be cheery and nicein this rush hour of holidays. The line is long.I would kill time clearing my phoneif my arms weren’t already stones. Which means I have no choice but to listento the
“Dwelling Place”, “Grip,” and “Oliver Cromwell Hanged Two Years After Dying” Read More »
The last moment I remember before succumbing to darkness is hearing Margaret’s scream. Shards of glass sinking into my skin. It’s not what I want to remember. A tragedy took her life, but somehow leaves me alive. Bruised. Bloodied. I’m alive to remember what I cannot forget. Pieces of a memory. The bruises will eventually
Pieces of a Memory Read More »
What I Learned from the Savage She-Hulk after Aimee Nezhukumatathil With thighs that never endSome women pick up a baseball batbefore unlocking the front doorand some women are green – everywhere there’s an interesting pathos occurringLike hey, for shits, let’s rebuild in one bodywhat they invented from forty handsand ride that feeling – it’s an
“What I Learned from the Savage She-Hulk” and “Repairing the World” Read More »
“Pentimento” i will lose sixty pounds and dissectsecond marriages their chalk outlines have even less of a chancebecause the pilled eraser hasn’t been perfected yet but imaginethe only accomplishment being pronunciation and not forgettinghow mice cross the snow in front of the headlightsand maybe it’s too soon to live a life over a sketchcolor with
“Pentimento”, “Breatharian”, and “Eye Patch Girl” Read More »
Sludge Daddy is dead.Crying will not bring him back;he can’t sense your grieving, little girl. He loves it when you lie to him He left and he’s goneand it should be that simple,but it’s hard to mournwhen we are living in his home. We didn’t ask daddy to build a housewith his arms,his hands, bleeding
“Sludge”, “Baby Hippie” and “Spare Change?” Read More »
But you asked if I’d work the registration table with you for the 10K charity walk/run. I’ll do anything when I have a crush, even on a Saturday morning. We’re armed with bottles of water, t-shirts, sign-up sheets attached to clipboards, and ballpoint pens that people unwittingly steal. That’s okay, we have a lot of
