Prose, Poetry, and Art since 1956
Wrist wheedled from out honed steel, hot-washed to a surgical shimmer, You glow Pistachio.Paddles and scoops, marble-top ready, hot water ensconced,Get doled nocciola.Glass shielded in bins like incubated babies, pastel- swaddled line-up in bassinets,What a summons.A queue worthy of cordons, in…
In my memory my mother isin the shallows, maybeshin-deep, swishing minnows into a blue bucket.In my older memories my sister was helping, because she was;but we don’t speak anymore, sonow she isn’t. At least,now I don’t remember…
I Writing about the ways your accent is at war with itself is like taking a knife to your tongue and splitting it into two unequal parts and then telling everyone what you did. One…
Something about Dizzy playing Tin Tin Deo is driving a city streeta slow in the summer whale of a carwhen even without accelerating you are making every lightand the song is both your driving and on the radio…
After Manahil Bandukwala’s “Petrify” Your body did not decompose into dust but began a slow petrification.There was no stench of rot, no flies birthed in your skin, only a rough texture forming. The rough texture…