The tree outside the barbershop was struck down sometime last night, its Siamese boughs wrenched from each other in violent divorce and the weaker flung to the ground— someone, some official someone, has hedged the…
Browsing Category Prose, Poetry, and Art
On the Corner of 5th and Orange
the three of us turn right. Past the iron fence wrapped in raspberry, thick with bee song and morning glory’s violet, the tree’s jaw and its opera throat hitting all the right notes. Past the…
Midden / Appetite
My mother calls herself our trash heap. She eats what we won’t, grows plump on our leftover eggs, bread crusts, the bitter-hearted lotus seeds we cannot stomach. We have small appetites. Waiting for us is…
The Line Cutter
A rodman at the far end. A transitman behind. She has them where she wants them, too far apart for brainless prattle, the joking at her expense. She works her way forward, toward the red…