100
|
My daughter, now four, can count to 15 in Spanish. How old are you? Cuatro. How old will you be on your birthday? Cinco. She likes Dora and thinks Diego is weird.
|
12852
|
Compose yourself children...
|
2130
|
(un mort petit)
If I told you
the moment of death
is just that,
a moment
nothing more
|
11221
|
He is quiet, as if acknowledging what really happened on that snowy road. He’s not really there, yet he is, like a shadow in my peripheral vision—fleeting, yet watchful.
|
131442
|
I watched haunted as my pearl tooth circled the rotten porcelain sink. I could feel my hair thinning and my pale skin suddenly felt too loose.
|
5873
|
My daughter, now four, can count to 15 in Spanish. How old are you? Cuatro. How old will you be on your birthday? Cinco. She likes Dora and thinks Diego is weird.
|
2011137
|
Now Carver Smithton has a paunched belly as stout as the beer that fills it. His upper lip is thick, fat and flat like a caterpillar run over by a semi on Highway 17.
|
127331
|
I stumbled out of the Ten Bells pub, still a bit tipsy from the absinthe, but had a clear vision of what I wanted to have happen this night. The air was cold on my rosy cheeks, so I shielded my face…
|
106216
|
Twisting and twirling, nearing velocity terminal, the wishbones in their chests rise and fall with the cadence of different bird songs calling. As they whistle down each is distinctively screaming.
|
9032
|
Their crush moves to open underfoot a hatred for fire-colors,
same when animals bed down and smell ashes dreaming,
|
1234104
|
When we lived in the attic we were make-believe.
|
109911
|
Whispers flew, like wild darts across the room. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say. Right then, it wasn’t my job to figure things out; it was my job to cry.
|
73541
|
The pantry door squeaked slightly when opened. It sounded like an admonishment. After all, he wasn’t hungry. But he stood there, in his threadbare socks and drawstring pants, staring at the life she had accumulated for them.
|
101461
|
I can feel the souls
of those who perished
here
They’re still here
like old kites
hanging in the sky
tattered, but they
won’t come down
or can’t come down
just yet
because they haven’t
fulfilled their
unborn promises
t
|
121821
|
He tapped his foot, swished his hips, swaying across the worn tile floor with an invisible partner in his arms, the batter-coated spoon still clutched in his right hand, momentarily forgotten. Nearly a decade had passed since he last shared a dance with h
|