Faces bowed, children of the Indian subcontinent swallow naan and pulses, masses filling holes. I dust off my eyes, imagine heads building a canvas. An art of a kind, those…
The alchemist is turning himself into a bird laden with flight. It’s Wednesday and the caravans of shoppers pass through the procedural darkness, their faces soft stones whetting the light.…
Where I grew up everybody became a knife-thrower or else worked in the more bureaucratic parts of the traveling circus. There was a town nearby and towns all across the…
I wear the crown of faithfulness. Look in a dictionary for the word and there I am. So I waited twenty years for a husband who deserted me for the…
In times of old, young girls would bake cakes of flour mixed with salt and soot and eat it up, thirsty and love-struck, and if a man offers a drink,…
Most of your mix tapes are gone now, lost somewhere between the 1980s and today. Of the few that remain, one says simply “Salome Comes In—you can fill these in…
In a dream I swim, Pursued by a time chamber Of pink claws creeping And snakes that secrete bloodworms— Slim things ringed with mottled eyes. Karen L. George Author’s note:…
She sobs beneath the tree in the shade at dusk: Quiver, quiver, little tree, bring my father back to me; a child’s incantation, a spell, a wish no godmother ever…
She planted things on the edge of the Lake: a baking pan, a glass jar full of marbles that spilled into the dirt. Topaz and orange balls gleamed like small…
Here is what your journey left you: Life in limbo; snake-bit ankles, serpentine windpipe, the slither of dead veins, crusted with half-blood. Life split like a baby’s skull, shattered into…
Gingerbread House Lit Mag 