With her new magic, she makes you invisible. With her new magic, she makes you invisible. The women with black eyes do not see you, in your bare sleeves, your tired, unmarked face. The women with black eyes can say doorknob. Can say staircase and fell down. She...
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...
I don’t remember much of the train, but I remember William who gave me his engraved penknife at the station I don’t remember much of the train, but I remember William who gave me his engraved penknife at the station that spring in Pisa. Jordan at the other end in...
When I finish my first book, I wonder who'll blurb the unsubstantiated blows my father landed upside my head. “An unforgettable voice in fiction.” When I finish my first book, I wonder who'll blurb the unsubstantiated blows my father landed upside my head. “An...
When I finally told you that my first boyfriend raped me, I was worried you would be mad When I finally told you that my first boyfriend raped me, I was worried you would be mad I hadn’t told you sooner. You and Dad believed so innocently that you could keep me safe...
I’ve heard there is a room where hooded women enter, writing dates on the wall with the torn edge of their finger. I’ve heard you can cipher the numbers to bodies, to the graceless edge of some men’s beds. Is I’ve heard there is a room where hooded women enter,...
Fear the caging of birds. Strangled and brown. Moving here was like crossing a river, debriefings, scaling back. Clay pots clogged, awkward like an ingrown hair, browning down in the sun. Staring at walls draws a crowd, like a hardened nipple, a tear-streaked thigh....
I shed my pelt on the shoreline, leaving the warmth of the glossy grey coat to shiver and head for land. I shed my pelt on the shoreline, leaving the warmth of the glossy grey coat to shiver and head for land. I am careful to walk where the water will erase my steps,...
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...
The first time, you walk into the night and think, This January wind is like death. Then you laugh at the idea that wind can kill in a city where asphalt is streaked with long stripes of blood or shit or mud. The first time, you walk into the night and think, This...