- March 22, 2021
The summer I became the last girl in my father’s house, I read Gilead for the first time. I was between my junior and senior years of college, and now that both of my older sisters were married, I
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Author: The Helix
- March 20, 2021
I was bringing a friend; that was all I said. His name is Raleigh. Like North Carolina. He plays guitar left-handed like Hendrix or McCartney. Born and raised in Chicagoland. Glasses cover his powder-blue eyes that match the walls
- March 12, 2021
It’s Monday, 1:45, and six men and I sit in a circle with our German-trained psychotherapist, an imperious woman who reminds us that she is here to help or offer guidance only if we get bogged down and that
- March 11, 2021
aspirate. fizzle the “s.” sidestep a first kiss. sidestep last. west coast swing dance, pretzel in saddle shoes, hopscotch, stagger, oscillate on offbeat toes, forget how it goes. graduation. June, July, August. intermission, flings before last vanishings, …that’s it—soft satin Tuesday, swirl skirt, someone
- March 9, 2021
On the painting by Vincent van Gogh The trees are aflame.The stars are ablaze.The moon swirls as it dances through the night.The Milky Way curlsin light waves breaking on the shores of the far horizon.The steeple, the people in their homesalight
- March 2, 2021
Hunt The first doll I remember being given was of a sturdy vinyl construction: a big baby doll with molded plastic hair rather than lifelike hair and eyes that opened and closed. It was about the size my baby
- March 2, 2021
Wednesday morning, 7:48. Fremont Avenue. The street is full. An old brown sedan crawls like a dying beetle over its surface. The motor sputters. It backfires while the car’s shadow paints the road beneath it with a thick, lingering
- February 19, 2021
Tiny plastic robot, lit from insideby the dim glow of twin LEDsbehind blank eyes, its stickered decalsalready peeling away – meaningless arrays, dials fixed at ten,gapless grilles of imitation steel,Clipart screws holding nothingtight to nothing – the only textures
- February 19, 2021
I often hike the west ridge of White Oak Canyon alone, though everyone says I shouldn’t. By the slow push of wind and rain, that slope of stones is the only way nowto reach the upper falls,where decades ago we’d make love for hours to the
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