Zetetic

The Umbrella

“You dropped this, madam.” Claire turned. A man was holding her umbrella towards her, canopy unfurled, his hand wrapped around the shaft as if he were presenting her with a bouquet of flowers. A jolt of gratitude shot through her. How many steps had...

Ogallala the Great Aquifer Speaks

They said the wells were innocent. Drained of their essence by greedy furrows. Every family protected a lush lawn. Intervention was the last resort. When the prairie’s water was endless the longitude and latitude of borders was a joke. Stretching...

Winter

Tony watched the girl cross the park.  She had a rucksack on her back and a sleeping bag bundled into the crook of one arm.  She wore torn jeans and a battered brown leather jacket.  Her pale blue eyes were huge in her thin, beautiful face. Bill...

Blessings

Coloured chalk covers the concrete. Scattered nubbins, fat sticks, and drawings. The small lot is covered in chalk drawings, except for a thin path that runs from the edge of the lot, winding around the pictures and back to the track leading down to...

Forsake of Naming

Pretend that I charge you to name all the creatures, great and small, leaf and limb, so you can feel in control of your outer world when so much inside is unnamable. Your numberless descendants will count and classify kingdoms they think they rule...

NIQAB

Maybe I like it in here. Maybe it keeps the chill of your wind and the heat of your glare off my neck. Maybe it still smells like my mother’s desert hyacinths, my father’s hidden stash of cigarillos, the gahwa we used to roast in the...

Stolen Beats, Patchwork Hearts

I scanned the crowded streets searching for a rhythm I could join, a pulse I could lift. I was close to living—I could feel it. My blurred edges were tingling with almost. Almost skin. Almost life. I watched the other Shades in their various stages...

When Peanut Butter Baby Ruled the World

It began with the dreaming mothers. Their babies came out familiar in shape but not in substance   Pickle Baby Ice Cream Baby Crispy Tofu Baby   The first births were recorded by nurses with trembling hands. Others came   Chocolate...

Eulogy of a Midwestern Mother

My mother always smelled like ex’•cla•ma’•tion: a blend of peach, apricot, amber, sandalwood menthol cigarettes and box chardonnay. When I was a little girl, she would send me into the gas station with ten dollars, I’d say: A pack of Kool Milds and...

The Dead Fund

I’ve lost hold of time these days. It’s been four months since Pops passed, but the house looked nearly the same. Six years of peeled paint and tarred-over roof since the last time I saw it in person. Sis sent an occasional family photo, but...

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