Compression by Death
It was the end of August. Jennifer lived with her 12-year-old daughter. Her husband stayed on the other side of the city in a house that used to be theirs,
It was the end of August. Jennifer lived with her 12-year-old daughter. Her husband stayed on the other side of the city in a house that used to be theirs,
“Bwaeek!” I beat my wings and tried to fly, but a man threw a cloth bag over my head. I recognized Jensen’s gravelly voice. “Stop there right there, Ronstone.” “You
I warmed my wings in a patch of sunshine. The ground below gave off a rotting smell, manure attracting flies. In the past, I would’ve been disgusted by my diet,
I flew from branch to branch until I found Ruby. “Stop making a racket,” she told me. “You’re scaring away my dinner.” I’d already searched through thick drifts of fallen
Whatever you do, don’t cash them in, not before floods melt margarine in the honeyed light of the last diamond setting. Atoms come in assorted sizes and pigeons coo in
My past was gone. Days blurred. I tore apart journals, ripped out one page at a time. People came to the house after the funeral and pretended to know me.