One way to measure the passage of time is to count the number of days since you last had sex. I’ve lost count. I only know it’s been more than three years for me and my husband—at least with each other. I know this because
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Siri Pleas Not I, not tonight. Not even halfway homewhen this notification brakes your black bikebefore the lichened gate of the communitylabyrinth— where now, we mustusher each other down the same trepid
The sun reflecting off a chrome bumper discarded by the side of the road like the wrapper of a fast food hamburger momentarily blinded Granny El Bee, and in that moment she
Pop Rocks My sister and I are playingoutside. She opens a small packof rock candy. She grins then pours some inmy hand. She whispers,“Close your mouth.Don’t chew.” The sound of rain in
When you go to Little Caesars on Christmas Eve, ignore the feelings of indignity as you trudge through the snow in the poorly plowed parking lot with the stiff-legged gait of someone
ㅤㅤㅤYou are plum blossoms,fruit to come. You are cream-ㅤㅤㅤfilled, dream-spent. We are eggand egg, ovum and ovum, open-ㅤㅤㅤmouthed. Open-mouthed. Youare calendula and roseㅤㅤㅤwatering my tongue. Youare brow in pain, bitten-ㅤㅤㅤflesh at the
Eyes towards the skyㅤㅤㅤit’s hard to discern what’s realWhen all is bathed in stardust It covers your skinlike the glitter gel you covered your body inat twentyㅤㅤㅤㅤsweating out your traumaon the dancefloor
I’ve seen them dart among the cattailsat the slightest shadowlike commas scattering over the surfaceof a page. And I have sadly senta few of them to their deathslast summer, when I ranthrough
Shellac Cicadas sing:The world doesn’t want us! Nobody wants us!I thought chewing felt the same.I am finding myself to be stranger and more fragile, like a dog that bites first.Bad dogBad godblame
(*fourteen unverified claims) Ghost Dads exist, believe you me. Fathers, living and no longer, conjure equivalent quality spirits. Their shadows extend indefinitely across villages, shires, and provinces. Across the block. Across the
Accumulated through the season, like black exhauston white snow, winter cruelties linger—a dirtyepidermal merengue sealing in all that wouldotherwise melt within us; the closing of the bellowsthat precedes the closing case. We