The Arrest, in all its surreal narrative trappings, supercars, and Hollywood theatrics, wants to know if words can save us in a dystopia.
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My reptile mother birthed a reptile daughter – cold-blooded, always chasing sunlight. The weather turns a screw in a fractured femur, and wrenches me rheumatic with the foresight of
Christmas, blue lights refract through the wetwindshield. Us, in the backseat,while my brother drives through the richestneighborhood in Orange County. It’s tradition.From the passenger, my sister says,Who’s the white girl?I don’t know
Bless the man who dismounted an elliptical just as a song blaring from a far room of the gym ended.His timing was perfect, to know when he poked his sweaty head
In 6th grade, a small group of boys started carrying around little, red laser beams on keyless keyrings. They were small enough to fit in the palm of the boys’ hands.
“Where’s the other instructor, the boy?” Renee said. It was day one of Women’s Wellness Camp, which Renee had embarked upon in hopes of having a young
Sunlight illuminated our bare skin, the air briney. The dog whined at the door. Their body lay heavy against mine, every limb slack, our legs splayed
— After William, William, and William; Robert, Richard, Sam, and Tom In the absence of left hands and left breastsand right eyes and toes and teeth—like gathering more data, adding salt,pulling all
My knees pop and crackle like a fireplace as I kneel at her feet on the carpeted floor. I flinch—my body suddenly feels too crooked, too misshapen to be here.She smiles like redemption,
A Note on Nakedness: In my writing, bodies bend and fold; hands encircle hips, hold onto sheets; mouths make music or other arrhythmic sounds. Lovers, and those without love, lay and
Rose teaches us how to stomp!