My brother faces my profile, scratches me in graphite, erases my only eye. Hmm, tries again. It’s fall. Maple leaves land. Warm and copper, they cover my feet. The sun is low but still whole, and the grass is damp with overripe pumpkin-juices...
If I painted us, we would be shades of brown. Not lemon-curd yellow fingerpainted by a child; not the rainbow of hundreds and thousands sprinkled on birthday cupcakes. Our undercoat would be the chestnut curls I tugged in first grade, then drew...
This gin tastes like leaves and pines that have soured over time. The ground crackles under feet, the carcasses of fallen weak twigs, discarded, break and crack. The winds pick up, pushing till goosebumps erupt but not yet, not yet, just get the...
Her photo albums. She’d wanted to burn the Polaroids anyway. They were just reminders of bad perms and teal taffeta and eyelids crusted with shimmery blue shadow. In the group shots, she was always too far to one side, partially clipped from the...
‘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...
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