By Jenn Powers he cleans his fingernails with a knife & cooks bone soup fresh kill from the forest blood flecks mud-caked construction boots late afternoon light purple now cools the surface of work benches ...
By Anne Fox Like Simone de Beauvoir, I have compared housework to the torture of Sisyphus. Yet once in a while, when an afternoon turns golden, I remember the outcome of an irresistible impulse. Despite my many years of kinship with a clothes dryer, long...
It’s ninety-five degrees and the car windows are down. I can feel the skin of my shoulder and arm burning no matter how much sunscreen I apply. The road is a bright zipper splitting my past and present: eastern Washington and childhood; western...
The Yesterday Today and Tomorrow Tree grew in the garden of our home in South Africa. It usually flowered for one season, purple and white blooms sending their perfume through my parents’ bedroom window. In the year my father died, it flowered beyond its time...
Mother, may I go to him, my brother slave to the needled beast Mother, may I love him the way you never did Mother, may I rest his broken heart at your feet Mother may you mend that heart, shattered and addled, for the weary lot of us...
