Tyrant Birds
1. The man who wasn’t there to buy furniture appeared my first week on the job. This was odd, because the store I worked at sold furniture, and because he was conspicuously alone. Normally, I got families or young … Read More
To Kill a Child
The inferno blew and blew. It rose above the trees and spread outward like villainous arms across the porches of the neighbors’ houses. The cries of an engulfed dog pitched high and then disappeared. Inside the Mitchell home, the … Read More
Interstate
We play games in the backseat, the children and me. Is it bigger than a breadbox? Smaller than a house? Everyone’s a good sport before lunchtime but, by afternoon, our minds are tired and the games become more brutal. … Read More
Listening to Birds
Because I am not Dave’s wife, I hold my ear to his daughter’s chest every day, when the other children are quiet, sleeping. I think of her as his second heartbeat. I watch my friends’ children while they work. … Read More
Hyacinth Gaze
In the strain and hazy fragrance of The garden of Miradouro de São Pedro De Alcântara, a mosaic of cobblestones Lies locked in Minerva’s fixed watch, The perpetual gaze of her opulent bust; Through ceviche scents and pastel tones … Read More
Missing Hiker Kept Journal of Her Ordeal
(headline in the Boston Globe) Abandon the path, even once, if only to pee, and you’re lost. First text, undelivered—“Im in somm trouble. Call AMC. Somewhere north of woods road”— When I missed a blue marker the hour before … Read More
After Khe Sanh
My brother as if in a body bag— heard me laugh, couldn’t see but knew the curve of my throat when I threw back my head, lips open, taut over my teeth, felt my staccato breath against his opaque … Read More
The Weight of Mourning
Four-cornered night, the faucet plinks— plinks a wet thousand’s thousand of droplets each stood just once to sing upon the silver bell of bathtub stopper. In morning, a small boy forms and collects his body; he lets it curl … Read More