You may be wondering, as is only natural, about the designated husband of our dear Princess.

Tiny was my daughter. Or what was left of her. A mucous-y chunk of what was once in my womb and then wasn’t.

Here the three o'clock sun is an old patched up fellow, with a stained yellow beard, walking in a small crispy rain of brown leaves, looking at something that requires a bit of squinting no one else can see, on the far side of the softening…

A Beatles haircut and loose Khaki painters overalls rendered the child sexless. He or she walked over to Hugh’s side and standing tiptoe peered into the casket. She, for Hugh had determined it was a girl, stroked the silk lining.

He did many things for love: Once he placed his tongue in his boyfriend’s nostril during sex, because he seemed to have read in the internet that this was a “thing” among the younger of their social class...

You gave me everything, delivered with a hungry mouth. Tease.All taken away, erasedby a few words.Lips that poured forth and lips that took insharp, electric pleasures.Now withdrawn, thin, petulant.Not satisfied,you crushed my sanctuary.with so…

Nights this husband returned home still hungry sometimes, even for her forearms against his own

Set your three-word story in prison.

The water lapped against the sides of the small boat, their rhythm all that I could think of. Sweltering rays beat down, frying my flesh, the insipid salty breeze that occasionally stirred my only relief from it. Gulls circled overhead, like white ravens,

The doctors said, when she was born, that the gills would eventually fade away on their own. Nothing to fear, they said; no more unusual than the rare child born with a tail, or a dense pelt of fur, or a single sharp tooth jutting from its new pink gums.

I don’t know how some can do it. Can they just walk off the animal in the yard or something, and forget about love altogether? Some have that built-in coldness of the soul, I guess. I don’t get it. The blood does not seem to shake their hearts. Are th

I take her hand. More grey dust rolls off the arms, over the railing, into the wind. It’s embarrassing and I let go. I think she told me to throw them away months ago. I rub her bare thigh. She laughs real soft like. The corner of her lip curls up.

‘A whole damn plane is missing and the only damn clue we have is a 9mm bullet,’ Picasso said to Victor Bravo whom he calls Torv. He’s his partner at the Picasso Investigation Agency. They questioned the guard assigned on the night of the plane

The lipstick on your collar walked up the steps and through the front door, without a key. Her smile was hypnotically red and bountiful. The guards standing around didn't dare frisk her for weapons, her lips were weapon enough.

Because you alone must know how to make a smile shine at me and be like the sun, I can only feel its warm and coolish colors becoming that perfectly deepened yellow then on to the red if you please that makes a shy kind of blue out of day. That…