I don’t know how to pray I told Mr. Rogers He was sitting there in his cardigan canvas sneakers on his feet and I realized that those accessories were his…
I watch them pluck flowers for the altar. The service begins as a girl sets the table outside under a tree with branches intertwined. She has long pale braids and…
I did not win my drawers of ivory marauding in the night I do not spy to see if you are good or gay I do not ask that you…
A Reimagined-Translation of “Dicen Que Soy” by La India For Elba The curse of some lonely witch Suspended above her cauldron-glow. An oar in her hands to paddle the wish.…
She had changed into things before. A speck of stardust falling into the waters, becoming fishlike, uncoiling, big-eyed, like the forms found in stone at the tops of canyons. She’d…
the way Oma taught us, we are all partly made of snow. We steal the sky’s aimless black, nest in the great wind that lifts our hair. When we bruise…
Murder is as soundless as a spout of blood, as regular and rhythmic as sleep. —Eudora Welty Listen to that chasing: caterwaul, growl— the cats sprinting the length of the…
I wouldn’t be the first woman to fall for a jackass. I swear, I’m cursed in men. Those ears, that nose, the beer gut, the brawls— you behave like you…
She gives the remembrances back. The letters. The birthday cards. His dress shirt she wore at night. The stuffed animal from the fair. The mix-tapes. The bracelets. She boxes them…
From far off, your life hums like two girls whispering in a field. The sky suddenly falls in love with you. Its cheeks a fawning rouge, eyes unclouded, light violent…
Gingerbread House Lit Mag 