If you come to these ruins, you’ll find pianos left lid-less and gutted. They’ll remind you of canoes from bedtime stories—the ones in which women lay down and died—now empty…
I. She lies across the bed in a diagonal, hair glints like the red of Tecate. In the street, a lone lamp sends rays that pool along the sidewalk to…
One morning, a girl came upon a well and lowered a pail for water. When she raised it, sunk at the bucket’s bottom, she found two hands. One she sliced…
I keep my heart in the knee- -creases of my knickers, down where it can be seen, touched, taken. The women folk say, close your legs, wear your skirt long…
One afternoon, three children playing in a back corner of their garden came upon a pair of large stone fingertips sticking up out of the soil and pressed closely together…
Visiting the sunny off-season shores of Nags Head, North Carolina, with your family, you become convinced Pulitzer-prize-winning author Steven Millhauser is staying in the rented house next to yours. It’s…
From their vacation home in the islands, with his holiday money, the son ordered “North Wind,” two-hundred-dollar gold-and-black sneakers with wings attached. This will not do. “But you said I…
Head out onto I-20. Pick up highways like bread crumbs, maybe they’ll lead you somewhere, maybe you’ll find what you’re looking for. Follow the asphalt and tar to the City,…
It’s quite clear the heroine must journey through birches and pines, through snow drifts or the summer’s biting heat. The path ends. The shadow spreads— she stares at a skull…
My mind’s choir is humming life back into my veins. I step in the sea and give up my fear of drowning. Angels sigh and beckon me further, toward barnacled…
Gingerbread House Lit Mag 