Shahrayar is my husband & I will die tonight. I am common, though beautiful & have done nothing more than sleep in my skin & know myself as woman. Father…
outside / you give me your scarf / the street lights are red every bar song is closing / time to the fog of your breath. I will not say…
3 and brightly colored seated next to me he unknown to me we are always talking about the ways another acts and another laughs it never serves to know all…
After Little Red Riding Hood Firs as green as guts of emeralds dipped in oceans scratch my cheeks. Bark and pitch beneath my shoes a crunching susurrus. And paths are…
The late-season storm darkening the amphitheater and the great apron of lawn running down to the train station, the creaking of trees and flaying of leaves and cannon from Brandywine…
Little one, you fringe my dreams with lanugo, one minute: fetus; the next: vernix of red flame. It doesn’t scorch my arms to cradle your fire and ice. When all…
I. My skeleton is no set of bones but a hunger I’ve buried. A yearning for a god with the mind of the moon, a radiant string of revolutions. I…
When they said her boy couldn’t graduate from their school, she lifted all the dirt from Mayor Turner’s garden and showered it down, letting a new pitcher’s mound form on…
We are the night-things with yellow eyes, skin sprouting feathers and scales. We wait for ourselves with umbrellas; we are impossibilities of loneliness. We are that which calls to itself,…
Half the time you can’t say what did us in, besides the obvious: kids will be kids only as long as we’re around. Here’s your key. There’s a pool out…
Gingerbread House Lit Mag 