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Poetry Quintet
You think I want to be here?
Listen, I was young like you once, too.
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breakfic, Digital Subscription, Fiction, LunchBreak Fiction, Print Issues
Litro #165: Breaking Borders | Sleeping Beauties
breakfic, Digital Subscription, Poetry, Print Issues
Litro #165: Breaking Borders | Daily Resurrection
Litro #162: Literary Highlife | Charcoal
I know it is strange, perhaps even unheard of, for an old woman like me to do this. Fingers will be pointed and tongues will be wagged till they nearly ...
breakfic, Fiction, LunchBreak Fiction
Litro #160: Changes | Wheel of Fortune
Is history destiny that a fortune-teller can predict, or is it the spin of a gameshow’s wheel?
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Litro 159: First Dates | Role Models
Now I’ve been thinking about this recently, how I’ve always thought it was a funny story, an anecdote of a drunk girl’s cynicism, or proof that women could enjoy anonymous, ...
Trip to India
I looked out the taxi window at the pouring rain. Monsoon season was never fun. We always came to India in the winter so as to avoid the scorching summer ...
Beth’s Not Crazy
Beth’s not crazy. She knows that never works, too pleading. But she’s not. When the bipolar diagnosis came raining down….
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Some Postures
It’s like she’s flirting, and because of that you don’t mind that she has taken your towel. But when your final breathing exercise is done and you crawl over to ...
Chasing Summer
The paragraph was squeezed between an article titled “How to Prepare Your Home for Thanksgiving” and an article about seasonal depression.
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Sagittarius Sun, Libra Moon
I am learning it’s okay for me to be ever changing, everlasting, evermoving. Movement is good, it keeps the flow of the blood, the beat of the heart.
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Take the Money and Stay
What am I willing to give up for creature comforts and basic preservation? After living in Abu Dhabi for five years, I know the answer to this question. And it’s ...
Cyclical Journeys
Harold pressed wrinkled soles against cool concrete and rocked in rhythm with the monster’s growls, glimpsing unnatural colours between dark trunks. Flashes of vibrant letters spray-painted on stacked carts. Insistent ...
Garden of Motherless Children
Dave and Paula found Marcus’ body washed up in a bed of Phragmites along the river the next morning, not far down from the Chester River bridge.
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In the Wake
It’s knife-wielding season in Little Havana. Last week a tremoring, teenage ladrón stripped Manny of his gold link bracelet outside the Pollo Tropical.
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It all starts with two degrees from nowhere on the Old 49 Highway
I got my bucket of wine and inebriated myself to the point that my head no longer pounded in pain. No, far from it, it buzzed like a lost airplane.
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About the Woman on the Train
I am the woman who cannot travel backwards on a train.
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People Were Like That
Not everyone could see it – someone passing on the street wouldn’t notice – but she could.
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End of the Line
I suddenly want to hold you, or hit you. I stare at your face trying to commit every line to memory.
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Cassie
The corners of his mouth twitch upward, but they don’t move far enough to become a smile.
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