Author Archives: Salamander

  After 90—a little bird-like cocking of her head to gather what she could from the periphery.   Her eager pupilage, dulled.   Retinas—their rites by rote, their prayers for light—unanswered.   She couldn’t pick apart the night she lived … Read More

  Madame Maman at the kitchen table, in turban and curlers,   reading the cards. Clucks and sighs suggest my stint on earth gets grim.   She won’t say how or why. Am I to be enticed by diamonds, beaten … Read More

  Fear yields the perfect ping of a wine glass in a war zone, magnifies anemones into fields of enemies. In case of emergency it breaks your skin.   Shrapnel is a foreign body. Fear is family, biting the holiday … Read More