We, women, grew hungry, ate from a pile of unassuming, pleasant rocks. They fell down our throats, slipped into the blankness of our bodies. We, women, grew hungry, ate from a pile of unassuming, pleasant rocks. They fell down our throats, slipped into the blankness...
My mother in a rental van idling in the Phoenix Airport parkade. She does a word search, finds “tongue” “bitter” “cochlea” lets a ballpoint pen tell her of her own body. I tap the van window, see her face for the first time in months. It’s been too hot, My mother in a...