I have what people call “child-bearing hips.” I guess that means they’re wide or something. I first heard the term when I was playing softball my junior year. Our coach, the one who had a filed record of staring at girls the wrong way, said something as our lead pitcher threw a strike during practice, […]
Tag: prose
The Sound of Snowfall
I don’t see my sister enough to argue with her. Not once we became adults, anyway. Of course, like any pair of siblings (maybe any pair of sisters, so close together in age, they’re often confused for being twins) our childhood was a string of disputes. The earliest I remember was my golden-haired sister chucking […]
Portrait of a Man
I like to think of this flash fiction as the acoustic version to a similar story unfolding in my head.
Because I Could Not Explain Grief In Symbols
Yesterday was three years ago, passing broken bodies of deer on the sides of every road. Their white bellies, slender, bent necks. I thought of her. Every black-eyed doe was the crack of her forehead on the steering wheel. Every dun-colored body was the bruises they say marked her face, kisses from impact. Passing their […]
