Glass Hours by Carolyn Oliver
Lose Touch If a city’s outskirts are ragged, were they once ruffled or ruched? Three popes ago, my brother and I. Two down, him possible […]
Lose Touch If a city’s outskirts are ragged, were they once ruffled or ruched? Three popes ago, my brother and I. Two down, him possible […]
[1] Two janitors arrive nightly in matching designs. One is from Warsaw. One claims Durango. They take photos before and after every shift. They hold […]
If I still believed in dawn, I’d rise to meet it. That I rise at all is nothing to do with light and everything to […]
The skeleton crossed the finish line and was halved at the waist. Exploded by a ribbon. Then the announcer cued a procession of rats to […]
They attached a zipper to my stomach, not to my womb. They said this would help the process run smoother, faster, if the babies could […]
Which bone of mine opens the door back home? A. My malleus, timpani that first percussed with my mother’s voice, B. my hyoid, anchor that […]
Do not touch the Zorro books in the garage. You could release the Masked Rider. You think you don’t know him, but you do. He […]
It was another brewery tour for Jared and me. The fifth since we’d been married. Or was it sixth? I can’t remember. We were at […]
I plant brains out back to help me think. I can’t say whose. In the mornings, I pour coffee over their folds and sprinkle the […]
Does the pig run? Does the pig run and jump over the fence? Does the pig, fleeing the farmer, run toward the fence, to jump […]
Copyright © 2024 | WordPress Theme by MH Themes