Legacy My ancestors were star smugglers. Becoming a mule was their only way out of the darkness. They would hide the stars in their bellies and wear thick clothes to conceal their glowing midriffs. Every night, I thank them. For the sacrifice they made. For what they left for us in our sky. Cakewalk I…
Bed A gift from Kayla’s father, who put her head through a wall when she said David Bowie was holier than Jesus Christ. He buys her a twin; he doesn’t know (can never know) she’s sharing it with me. When the box arrives, we assemble the bed together and tell each other our love will…
I was the one who took the photograph of the princess with her toes in the mouth of a man who was not her husband. I didn’t mean to take it. I was sent to pap them and I did not want to be there, not one bit. It had been a long day and…
Moon Pillow
After three days, my husband comes home with the moon pillow, still in its plastic. I don’t know how he paid for it. Maybe he didn’t. “For you,” he says. Nothing else. He’s stopped explaining his disappearances and I’ve stopped asking. I already know more than I want. My current pillow is so old it’s…
Operating Instructions for Your Broken Heart
These are the things you may not do: You may not hide in or under your bed without speaking for weeks, time stretching cobweb-damp as the bright world rushes by outside. You may not be unseemly in public. You may not develop a drug problem. You may not drive thirteen hundred miles and beg to…
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