Mr. Fauntleroy slid against the birthing room door, crushing his hands against his face. More than any father in the world, he’d wanted to hear a piercing squall. His arms…
for Anne Sexton I circle the bed, where the daughter sleeps her hundred year slumber. She bleeds. She is not a child. Pricked by the thirteenth’s needle, she sleeps the…
The Moon walked along the coast in the same white lace her mother wore the night she was born. While the tide was still low, the Moon lay down, bruising…
Eighty-two years later, Lady of Locks found herself in a memory she had been trying to forget as Bear stood in front of her cabin, wheezing and holding a cane.…
Aurora hangs her dress on a hawthorn tree with needles sharp and slightly curved as if to sew. The berries bright red are ready to be plucked to make a…
Off into the woods, 180 acres of lost. I carried no breadcrumbs, no plan to map my way back. Home itself, a sly cottage of honeyed lies set amidst the…
I. Twelve When Marie is twelve years old, her mother’s mother takes her to the French Quarter for Mardi Gras. “You need to see the glorious dead,” Mamáw tells her.…
Icarus chewed his McNuggets while checking the classifieds. He noticed his gimpy wing’s tip had settled into the sweet and sour sauce. Fuck, he thought. Swallowing the questionable, ground up…
My family is in the firefly business. I like watching them flit about in their fragile, glass containers. Their elongated, ochre bodies are tipped with ruby on the head, with…
Some see me as the Erl King, spiriting children away, and some as a kind of saint, rescuing them from God knows what sort of life. Many feel sorry I…
Gingerbread House Lit Mag 