He was walking in the woods when he heard that laughter, those exclamations, that joy. And what to do but stop, heart thumping, and listen to the children’s voices through the curtain of branches, then venture towards them, the … Read More
Are you an immigrant, asks my son’s teacher when I drop him off. Perhaps I seem a little harsh, I walk too quickly, my teeth aren’t right. He pushes and shoves, he can’t keep his hands to himself. … Read More
As soon as we saw you in the movie we knew you were where the Jews were buried which we find out they were and when you illustrate the cover of a book we find out you were covering … Read More
—they have known each other forever grew up together, and so one tree would comment and the others would heartily agree and a few would laugh and there was cross- conversation; I could tell a few were whispering but … Read More
My great-grandparents were hounded out of their native lands; no streets were named after them in those lost-named Slavic towns where they left everything, nor in Argentina where the paternal pair tarried for the birth of the baby who … Read More
I used to believe it took so much to kill without a bullet. I didn’t know the hollowness of bodies, how hands can lunge and it can all collapse like matter. Like nothing matters. On TV, … Read More
I played with her at school because no one else would and because she had only two dresses, one striped, one plaid. And because my mother said, You be nice to that gypsy girl, I invited her to … Read More
I buy one I return one I buy another I return it this goes on all fall— my hunger unsated my thirst unslaked I try the zippers the drawstrings adjust the straps with and without silver … Read More
On the night my grandfather rejected tea and offered his last breath instead, the earth shifted an inch. And I listened out for a rustle of leaves or a flash of thunder amidst the wailers’ phonation. At … Read More