I am a perennial vegetabledrinking myself purpleLoosely, we chained devilsspot a mushroom on the backyardOn the backyard sonnetOn the blessed easter of my chosenmother who sits like a strawberryin a cozy chair, I love her…
Browsing Category Prose, Poetry, and Art
Ghazal for My Mother
She’d listen closely, then gently remind Such is life!Her mantra: don’t live a coulda shoulda woulda life. Tucked me to bed with when the blaze is blue, and the lamp-wick sputters, and the wind goes…
imagine | a boy you don’t love and who doesn’t love you
builds a fortress in his living room from blankets, pillows, hand-me-down futon and today after shift you’ll go there instead / of going home to your own twin-sized bed, sleeping as the walls you’ve already…
The Big Day
It began with the Andora. The stylist at the bridal boutique had selected the Fleur, the Reagan, and the Andora gowns to try on, but in the end, it was just the Andora. Maya knew…
Half-Life of a Wooden Pipe
While my mother was getting her stomach pried open to remove a child formedwrong side up, my father sat in the hospital lobby balancing yellow notebookpaper and pen on legs half-feeling and unsteady as he…