Snow
Still, nobody knows if it’s better to write about snow on a country road from an apartment in the middle…
Dead Things I Gave Birth To
The first person I killed didn’t run. I never knew his name, just his crime, so I called him One.…
The Syntax of Silk
In the small hours of the morning, I forage, taking care to nibble leaves both fibrous and tender, for the…
Blessed
The priest still has a mouth full of cake, crumbs stuck to his lips, when the mom presents a doll…
THE MIGRATION OF DEAD BIRDS
Elena cried for the sparrow, for how it slipped a squeal before it hit the front window, a sound that…
Jumping Off and Falling Out
I felt like television static that year—glossy-eyed afternoons at The Bitter End with a magazine straddling my lap, ears straining…
Mom gets me a dog for my ninth birthday because she says all kids should have a dog
But I didn’t ask for a dog. I asked for Grand Theft Auto. Mom says, “There are things in that…
Horsebroken
Handcuffs On the way to see our boy in the detention centre I was wearing invisible handcuffs. “Don’t try to…
The Life of the Mother
Content Warning: Miscarriage, abortion Following the meeting with the doctor, there was no thought of a baby shower. Too much…
Where I Come From . . .
the house had jasmine bushes that scented the backyard, veiling the odors from our rubbish bins. It’s where my sisters…
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