Showing results for July, 2020
Kevin Richard White
The guy looks over and sees me eating my pepper steak. He is a hard blur of hair and grease. For one brief minute, I think he’s going to lasso me or ask me to come over and polish off a bag of pork rinds.
My husband is a proficient fighter. He catalogs the inconsistencies between the things I say and things I do. Against this tactic, I have no defense. For he is right, but what he fails to understand is the internal consistency in my inconsistency.
But I didn't feel sick anymore, was the thing. The sweating, capsizing sensation, the kaleidoscope of Muppets I saw square dancing behind my eyelids on that third night when it was legitimately bad, all that had been weeks ago and still everyone brought my mother food.
–After José Olivarez
When Carly’s body
isn’t a body but ash
they wish to be poured
into Lake Washington
below a sun becoming half
“Louis has stopped taking his dose.”
Sarah lowered herself to her knees in front of the fridge, continuing to uselessly rearrange the sanguinium.
“We think maybe you can spend some extra time with him, maybe get him to start taking it again,” Tim said. “You do great with Dotty.”
I'm up here along the photograph and its shore, calling to you. Dive off your custom watercraft and swim to the beach. No one of us standing here blames you for being seduced by the once constant tingle of skin we've followed all our lives.