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publications

Beatriu the Builder

Beatriu the Builder

She arrived at the ragged edge of the sea with four canvas totes. One for herself, and three for the children. Each bag sang faintly when it shifted, as if full of seashells or bones. The townsfolk watched her climb toward the old house on the hill. They thought she...

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Resurrection in Clay

Resurrection in Clay

I ask the boys to send me pictures, and then I build their faces. They show me family portraits in parlors, hair slicked from severe center partings, and military snapshots in uniforms brown and crisp as paper packages. They come into my shop, and I lay paint upon...

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Whalefall

Whalefall

WHALEFALL Lorenza is honest in therapy about everything except the whales. She tells Dr. Adams a purgatory of bland truths: her hands shake, jelly seismic activity, when she walks outside and the world is small and real and people look at her with pupils that dilate...

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My Shadow Feeds the Birds

My Shadow Feeds the Birds

I hang my shadow on the clothesline like a sheer, limp solar panel. After dancing beside me all night long, it needs a sun-washed nap. The steel-colored version of me descends into dreams slowly, like that violin quartet that played on, as the Titanic French kissed...

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The Search

The Search

I wrote tenderness on a sticky note and stuck it on my computer monitor. The next person who wandered by my cubicle, I tried to hug. Their arms flailed like ribbons. I was fired. So that wasn’t it. At home, I made a cake, and my wife made a list: sugar, fat, calories,...

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Tide Within

Tide Within

On the morning Ma forgot my name, she remembered everything else: the price of onions in 1998, the exact shade of blue Baba wore the day he proposed, the smell of the sea on her first and only trip to Digha. She stood at the balcony, gripping the railing as if the...

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One of the Lies I Tell My Children (#3)

One of the Lies I Tell My Children (#3)

If they ask if we can get a dog, I will tell them to prove to me they can take care of one, but I will neglect to tell them how. I will watch for displays of maturity (doing the dishes without having to be asked, putting their dirty clothes in the laundry room instead...

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When You’re The Stage Mother

When You’re The Stage Mother

When you’re the stage mother, your job is to attend every rehearsal or performance your daughter is in. It doesn’t matter if she’s an extra or in the lead role. You’re there to support her. The rules: always stand and clap at the end. Whistle loudly, the kind of...

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Matryoshka

Matryoshka

She is the biggest of the girls, freshly turned, the musky sweetness of larch still lingering. Pleasant smile, rosy cheeks. Her eyes are painted open, though there isn't much to see inside the truck. But in the dim her imagination flies. There are others with her here...

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