Someone was here before me—the tracks always leading in, never out. I can’t see myself in focus—the snow no mirror. Mirage, maybe. I’ve always been walking, it seems, on the…
How do you grieve for someone that you never knew? I have too many sad days for laying lilies For mourning babies I never birthed So I am made up…
The halls were longer then, the ceiling arched like the sky above the forest where I’d lived, a shadowed girl tended by fairies. What did I know of treachery? Squirrels…
When the mothers have been sauced, when the stepsisters have been cauldroned, we are left with the fathers. The fathers have never hurt us by way of hand, but they…
I went out back and found my father standing under the apple tree. He at least had the decency to look embarrassed. You trying to sell me to the devil…
In this yeast that spits, we turn our knuckles white and raw like overripe peaches. In 1,000 years, I wonder if I’ll remember how you smelled: hickory and oaked, like…
In my dreams she is alive again, but death has made her younger. No longer eighteen, she toddles on a windowsill, a moldy, lukewarm child. I don’t care; I’ll raise…
We skipped the fairytales when you were younger. Forget dead mothers, evil women others. Forget the dark woods, wolves, welcoming homes filled with overly large ovens. Forget hovels filled with…
I was new: fresher dew on the curve of the earth than even most five-year-old girls. I’m sure it was clear to the others that I was an apparition; I…
The house stood on the corner of Texas Avenue and Jackson Street right across from Minute Maid Park. It was built in the back lot behind Annunciation Catholic Church, shining…
Gingerbread House Lit Mag 