December 2016

The Wisdom of Fools

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...

Forever

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...

History

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...

The Changeling

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...

The peregrine impediment

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...

Forty Days and Forty Nights

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...

Heartbeats

Durga’s heartbeats had wings. She discovered it the day she turned eighteen, when she was returning home after a bath in the river. On the way back, she came across Ravi, the zamindar’s son. He met her eyes and she blushed, and that was when it...

The Ashes With Which We Paint You

They say that our kind never forgets. Here are the things we remember. One year ago…. I remember the thunder of applause and the gasps of surprise that surrounded us when you first taught me to hold the brush and put the paint to canvas...

Senior Citizen Sasquatch

Let’s face it—he’s old. His howl no longer carries through the forest. His attempts at banging on tree trunks with rocks only results in nagging injuries. He’s losing his hair, and it’s not a good look. He’s tried to...

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