‘Sans paper’ words that give a voice to some unfettered, undemanding, joyful thought exist and yet in transit are no more than theoried charged particulates aligned and bound to octets. How they seek and find recipient or sender, we...
I am mid-moan—it’s a sound I practice, not something I ever emit alone, but I do it over and over, record it on my phone and play it back, perfect the high-pitched rise at the end, layer in my creaky voice, my freaky voice—when he asks to stop. “I’m...
A woman in a white dress comes to you, lays the cool fish of her hand on the hot stretch of your forehead. You cry water. Water has run away. She is so beautiful you want to keep this fever, the murmur of quilts, her blonde braid, her blonde brow...
Women suffer different from men. Least that’s my take on it. Even the way we bleed is different. Take my Bam-Bam for instance. He only bleeds every so often, like when he shakes his fist at the moon and howls, forgetting he’s holding a...
The sugar maples dropped their leaves in the course of a single day. It wasn’t even a full twenty-four hours. The trees had been awash with color in the late afternoon—a spectacular, rich, golden panorama, tinted with accents of crimson and rose...
I am everyone that has ever been, everyone that ever will be. I was there at the birth of the first, and will be there to collect the last. People believe it is a mother that gives life, but it is not as simple as that. Mothers bring the body, but...
I bear elk bones and elephant tusks in ivory stomach pits scalped by broadswords. I imprison Goliath in the slip of my sickled-cell throat— a dungeon of behemoth flesh. Never-lit candles for Hanukkah bone the marrow of my knees, honey cream wax...
When they brought my brother home, I was supposed to love and care for him, but I was sure he was a changeling. I had been a strong baby, they told me—too strong, and I must have taken part of Mom with me when I came out, because none of the others...
Kay is looking for K. And every other consonant. And every vowel. Her new voice is deep and plumbous; her old one a singularity. Her tongue molds strange syllables; odd serifs lodge in her throat. She endures jibes of brie, French sticks, dumb...
On the first day, it began as a light drizzle, more like the air hadn’t quite finished going through the dryer than actual rain. A typical spring morning. You complained that your hair was going to get frizzy in the damp. You didn’t wear a raincoat...
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