Ghost Parachute

My mother crossed herself every time she saw a crow. Crows bring death on black wings, she said. I don’t know if these two in the road are bringing death, but they’re pecking at it. A liver-colored smear my stomach tells me not to look at too closely. One for sorrow, two for joy … […]

The tiny children want to ford the swelling river during the storm but a horned beetle tells them it’s just not a smart idea. “The water is pretty wet today,” the horned beetle says, shaking his shell for a moment to shrug off the rain. “But hey, we’ll do it. Also, my name is Trent […]

The brittle stars, in stop-motion, edge closer. My body is too wasted to move. The sea laps at my feet and my cheek is pressed into the beach’s wet sand, legs ensnarled in seaweed. The ghost of salt water stings my nostrils, burns my throat. I wanted to be a part of the choir. When […]

In the Green Zone, the sound of helicopters no longer gives me nightmares. I have seen propellers from so far away they looked no more dangerous than a lover’s eyelashes. But my trailer mates still thrash around at night in their beds, stretching their sheets upward as if to graft the sky with an extra […]

When we talked on the phone, he told me what he admired about my body. I listened to the way he described my breasts. They have names, I said. Really? I didn’t tell him what they were. He said he’d call back later, when the kids were asleep. ** You’ll have to guess their names. […]

You are busy eating a name.  It’s a struggle.  The texture is leather-tough and could use seasoning, salt perhaps.  It doesn’t matter.  Nothing does, only that this must be done, and that you’re the one for the job. If you swallow every letter, you figure you’ll be able to shit him out in a day […]