I place Sygna, my late husband's silver swan, into a box in the attic. She keeps me awake all night with her furious metallic din, an unyielding crash-clang of protest. Next morning I surrender and put her back next to his photo on the desk. Sygna quietens, shifts her...
Aunt Sylvia says it’s nothing, but she coughs wicked and that’s when I know it’s coming.Death. We never talk about anything but Judge Judy and how dumb those people are,airing out their nasty shit on television when they could be your neighbors, and then howdo they...
When you cook you use every pot, including ones that can’t go in the dishwasher, because I clean; when I cook, you poke my Brussels sprouts with your fork, pronounce them “mushy,” and push aside your plate. You call my favorite show “aristoporn.” On Saturday, you...
In my language people call it ‘slippery fetus’, cannot be held, unravels like ribbon. You are ‘slippery daughter’, will not be held, all over the floor. Wear colors, no more gray, you are almost see-through. Eat more ginger, less salt, no tears. Take showers not baths...
Mom gets them out of Skokie when Laila is four. She talks about endless troops of kids and dead ends no matter which way you turn. Dad directs the operation of packing furniture, dishes, clothes, while Mom smokes with the neighbors and bitches if moving men come near...
Each night, my soul flutters out of its husk and wanders between the stars. Through sheets of laterite and palm leaves, my people dance and clap along with the rhythm of ebony drums. They twirl, dusty feet hovering above the ground as mothers sing. The masquerades...
Shrapnel bores out of Daddy when he chops too much wood. They float to a place near his spine and Momma fishes them out with tweezers and a needle. Shrapnel bits don’t look like bullets. Sometimes they look like hominy, sometimes like baby teeth. They’ve been coated...
Just as the Greeks hypothesised, my uterus traversed my whole body, and yet in an absence of hysteria, she squeezed herself calmly out from between my legs. I set her free and she rose like a glowing New Year’s lantern. Getting caught in bare branches, she...
I’ve always thought life is more about what is unsaid than what is said. We live in odd gaps of silence, irremediable interstices that sometimes last forever. A lingering glance averted. The lover who slams the door and runs away. Unsent letters. We all carry so many...
1. It’s always night when they wheel us girls in, gowned on gurneys. Underground. They pull their masks up and peer at our faces. Line us in rows along the dark gray walls. We must be sick. They must be healers. Lightbulbs swing from the ceiling. Somewhere down the...
Every summer, my flower collection expands with my lungs. I gather them before the solstice, because my mother always told me to stock up for winter. She’s a hoarder and has a basement lined with silver cans, the labels old and worn, peeling off like epidermis. My...
There was once a girl who’d text a boy: I caught a dream on my way home last night. And the boy would text the girl: I can’t wait to see it. The girl would see an orange butterfly with clusters of green and gold. She’d text the boy her recollection, translated...