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Find it here! February 2017 In D.C., I pocket my husband alongside my pictures, open-mouthed and filled with teeth. He says he doesn’t remember the city in the same way I do. Everything’s different. I’ve noticed there’s more water in Kansas than D.C. It seems like a lot of things should be fountains here, but … Continue reading “February 2017” is up with Rat’s Ass Review
Find it published here! Tangled Roots She pulled away corn husks, the fine silk piling on her feet and masking cracked linoleum until the floor shone golden strands. Her father's hands hulled speckled peas and wrapped around the slender neck of his eighth bottle --quelling sounds but quickening the blood rush in her ears. When she … Continue reading “Tangled Roots” nestled with 3Elements Review
Grey Goose and Grim Grins I saw a mockingbird crack a joke yesterday morning. She dipped her wing into my coffee-- hot wings. I heard my daughter’s voice singing through dappled feathers. And the wren whispered that I, like my daughter, can weave nooses with the cusps of my split-ends, cut into cords. I can … Continue reading Grey Goose and Grim Grins
Interim The garlic clove crunches under a mallet’s teeth, or maybe your palm. Picture this: a red-headed child walks in the door, swinging her backpack. She asks why the triceratops eat only flowers. You’ve taught her to love the unknown, fear the omnipotents, but she wants the answers anyway. Forgotten, she feels like July as … Continue reading Interim
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Genocide Water will get stagnant if you leave it outside to set. Mosquitoes deposit their eggs to play houseguest in mildewed buckets full of lukewarm rainwater. Fuck those bloodsuckers. You tip the bucket. When the slimy sacs of larvae slide onto the sun-torched concrete, you crush them into the cracks with your calloused heels, your … Continue reading Genocide
Those glimmers of coral might Be the lots of some hard-luck Town, or – depositing on the dead A second bed – A submerged cemetery. -Brad Leithauser If you take a left off Old Gentilly Road and follow the canal south, you’ll find a rickety pier, riddled with wooden planks. Look out … Continue reading The Unburied Graves, August 2005
Oh, home of cracked bones, crypt of condensed composure. My time has arrived. One bone, two bones, three bones, rattle my bones, shake the box until its cobwebbed truth tumbles out onto hard-packed dust. Shredded into ivory splinters, you’ll find the derailed train that hurtles toward you, only a few feet away now. Before you … Continue reading Ossuary