

Two Flew Away
My left eye throbbed. The fact that I’d been training at the gym for just such an attack when Doug, an 8th grader with a fat fist, tackled me was more than ironic, it was discouraging. It was a Saturday, which meant Dad would be home, which did and didn’t matter. I walked slowly, kicking the earth with each step;… Read more →
Deja Vu
When a gypsy begging on the metro adds that she fled warring Yugoslavia, wallets open that usually wouldn’t. Not Andreas Mann’s… nobody learns from our mass murder, our self-destruction.…He glimpses the gypsy, her calico skirt, remembers an almost-lover, a survivor’s daughter, her bare shoulders, naked back: so vulnerable, so strong.
Woman Overboard
The white hull of the boat sparkled – the light source, presumably from an afternoon sun, added sheen to the still water. There was no indication of what had capsized the boat. Lisa sat in the dim light of her office, staring at the painting. No sign of life had been brushed onto the canvas. Just quiet stillness. She remembered… Read more →
Hollowing Grainne Kane
Begin with a scratch to the scalp, an insidious itch that won’t lessen no matter how quick or deep nails press down. With each carving stroke take white flesh away under fingernails, strips and crusts of grit and oil, crumbling like soft white chalk. The black of blood set in scab, pick that away, the crust of crème brulee, nails… Read more →
Shame
This is about how our father dealt with a chicken-killing dog. No way could she hide from him. He saw red feathers dangling from her black lips and found the plump body stashed behind the woodpile. He whistled, Some enchanted evening, you will meet a stranger, while uncoiling the twine, and with infinite gentleness, he tied the limp hen around… Read more →
Enclosures
My mother didn’t go outside for a year. Under the wide ceiling sky, each step was a climb up Mt. Everest. The bag on her walker carried all travel necessities: phone, pouch of unscented tissues, lipstick, maybe a bottle of water. Unlike me and unlike earlier, she didn’t hanker for the street or its tributaries. Sometimes a hint of longing… Read more →