Prisoner for Polygamy is not simply another volume in the vast collection of diaries, histories, auto- biographies, and biographies of Mormon polygamists. Rather it is a slice of life, a document describing the immediate consequences […]
[…] branch on a long rope to soak up odors, storm dust, and heavy drops of rain, till the branch sags with my weight and I strain for the ground I grew on. Those who […]
It is not that I miss you now but I miss it—when I swallowed your finger the first night and restrained myself in deference to
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