Alice was the first of us to fade away. The first signs began when winter dawned. Early, before the sun rose, the morning dew solidified into crystals, which crunched like gravel beneath our feet. One by one, we would creep awake, the seven of us, pull on our hoodies and
Read MoreExisting. That was what the weeks after the funeral felt like—a string of continual stresses from the mountain of immediate family responsibilities, punctuated with pangs of overwhelming sadness, and then those sudden
Voronezh, Russia, 26 December 2018 When I got off the bus, my
Abies lasiocarpa (bifolia) PINE FAMILY H 90’; D 18”. Tree with spire-shaped
Umma had me believe that foreigners pay an extra price for faith. In the church we attended as I was growing up, to pray meant to know where we belonged and to
We’re slicing through the Sonoran Desert on Highway 286 in a water supply truck operated by Humane Borders. Faint yellow light rises into the sky behind the mountains, letting us know that
Existing. That was what the weeks after the funeral felt like—a string of continual stresses from the mountain of immediate family responsibilities, punctuated with pangs of overwhelming sadness, and then those sudden
1. On the rare occasion that Charon went to find Mr. and Mrs. Naaji, he packed his own dented watering-can and walked the long way to the cemetery. He passed Elm Street
The first time I saw a needle, it wasplaced innocently on a nightstand as if itwas a tube of chapstick. I had no right to see it in the bedroom of a friend’s
I come home on Easter Sunday to find a mouse killed as if by a surgeon. The puncture wound is a clean crescent. I want very badly for this to mean something. I
They call you Bella. It’s the name you chose from the film Belladonna of Sadness. At the strip club, where you can tell them what they call you, but not how they
Jupiter’s orbit they called it, the path he took nearly every day. He’d start from his little high-stepped house at the farthest end of Duane Street, where the road gets spotty, disappearing
i. soojung, 2001 if any memories remain,let bruise and laughter blur. somewhere by a sea,a child forces broken starsinto their mouth, sliveringpaled enamel above barely-therebuckteeth. five years old andevery care beyond. fingertips
Books are my morphine. Ditto the sun. If night is secular, why do I seek its blessing? I’d rather build a paper kingdom then bend a knee, or kiss anyone’s ring. Words
