Between the Lines

Between the Lines

John had always found women hard to read. Some favoured long, looping fonts, a copperplate calligraphy like wedding invitations.

Body as a Single-Family Home

Body as a Single-Family Home

My ribcage must be the foyer, all high ceilings and wasted space and a place for the air to circulate. Small voices echoing off the walls of my lungs.

Bare Hands

Bare Hands

My Uncle Louie beat a man to death with his bare hands, the same hands that now hold my baby in the living room of my newly dead grandmother’s house.