Danielle Jones-Pruett’s creative work has appeared or is forthcoming in Cider Press Review, First Inkling, ROAR, Southern Women’s Review, and others. She holds an MFA from the University of Massachusetts Boston, and is the 2012 winner of the John Holmes Award.
The neighbor who never smiles steps out of his dress shoes in a parking space, leaves their velvet mouths to soak, tongues still lapping the milk-round bellies of clouds. There are no clues, only pennies pressed in fresh asphalt, smell of burn, black windows reflecting the same sunken face, until one day I see through—she’s surrounded by stacks of folders… Read more →
She watched the fishermen drag the boy up the muddy bank. His hair the only thing moving. * Mother made her chamomile tea, while the neighbor whispered through the steam: twice the size— had to slice the seam of his suit— She imagined him split in two, the fine line between dressed and undressed. She dropped her cookie into her… Read more →