Back
My dad couldn't reach the middle of his back. He waxed every part of his stocky, thick body--and then I hopped in at the end to get the patch between his shoulder blades. It became part of our Sunday afternoon routine.
New Fiction
The Moth-Child
She was a marvel of deformity: bones thin and brittle, organs misshapen, skin with an odd cast of gray. Most shocking, of course, were her wings. Not real wings, the newspaper said, but wing-like abnormalities—things that looked like wings but …
Smoke
Aunt May wanted a cigarette, so I sighed myself up and rolled her oxygen tank away. I knocked it against the door frame on purpose. Then I fell back onto the couch, where I watched the smoke float upward, …
Southern Living
Have you ever been somewheres, and there was people speakin’ the names of those you thought was dead, and some of those names belonged to you?
“Rhonda, Rhonda, Rhonda.” And there it is.
Before Hurricane Sally spanked me all …
Calcification
Mother won’t let me eat the bones even though they’re soft enough.
You’ll calcify, she says. The doctor’s lab results report that calcium has already built up in my organs, a stone nestled between blood vessels, a tiny fossil deposit …
