Border Crossings
April 10, 2018It happened again as I was walking through the New Hampshire woods with a woman I knew only slightly. We had been chatting amiably when the words “Mormon feminist” escaped my mouth. From the […]
It happened again as I was walking through the New Hampshire woods with a woman I knew only slightly. We had been chatting amiably when the words “Mormon feminist” escaped my mouth. From the […]
who sit singly, as I do, on unkempt beds in dingy small rooms among their own litter and cast-off clothes; who slump against walls watching late-nite TV instead
I was expecting ripened avocadoes, Michael, or half-used spices—the usual throwaways before a move. Not a grocery bag of garments, unopened, each slippery package a skin you never tied on.
Her head nestled in the palm of my hand not so long ago, little lips tugged my breast, fingers pink as birthday candles
One of his had just spilled some Cheerios, and one of hers was griping over the Grapenuts. He was about to holler
Because last night was Friday night I had to search to find a quiet place and when I found it I wanted to leave it though I wasn’t even working off a mean gin drunk.
These bodies look like they were pancake mix that, when poured on the skillet, turned out to look sort of human.
As earth began to shed the snowy clouds of death and slumber, as darkness ebbed within the solstice, you slept in my dark womb,