He sits, hands on knees, as the warm pyramid of the sun climbs his legs, sifting in through the open window. His back is unbent, and his hair is thick but where once it was black as night water, now it is streaked with grey.
A sore on my leg meditates for monthsbefore deciding it will stay. Some breaksnever heal, just congeal with the others,my body so laced with cracks it’s wholeagain. I am not…
It was Almost a Shame to Bury Her As promised, dear readers, I recently rewatched Robert Zemeckis’s 1992 film Death Becomes Her. My friend Devin describes it as “the best…
How ’bout you’re the fence and I’m last summer’s grass escapingthis year’s snow – soggy – dead – footprinted – partedto make way for growth? How ’bout instead of preassembledcorner…
One October night, when I was twelve, my sister Kimmy and I broke out a Ouija board. Our bedroom was my house’s Halloween destination, and my little sister Kimmy was…
He sits, hands on knees, as the warm pyramid of the sun climbs his legs, sifting in through the open window. His back is unbent, and his hair is thick but where once it was black as night water, now it is streaked with grey.
I. TELL ME “how did we decode his body? meta —made of dust?or silver —made from rust? Hey, Icarus, how do understand your biology after your brain was coded with binaries? you, who dared gravity…
