From the back porch, I check on the fire’s progress. Just over the tree line, dark columns of smoke billow. The fires, I know, are closing fast on the ranch. Th...
By the time you get around to picking up the pills it’s been nearly eight weeks, and the doc or tech or whoever she was—some white lady in scrubs—made sure you ...
The birds and the bees come and go. They graze on my leaves. They flutter against my stalk, buzzing or chirping their contentment. They always pause at my flowe...
My father came after my bedtime, but I could hear my mother talking to him. She said she would not let him in, and while he stood at the foot of the porch she c...
“It’s all history with you,” she said. It was an accusation.
“I just wondered if you remembered trying it,” he said.
They were driving west on Green away ...
The surgeon has hands like a polished sword. That’s what her husband says, like a polished sword.
He buys her roses for their anniversary; he opens a bottle ...
My kid said the thing in the sky was a divorce. The drunk at the bus-stop revealed it was the Russian hackers. It was thin and, for November, unreasonably shi...
Baby 1 gurgles, splashing her feet as her mum dangles her in the kiddie pool. On the other side of the fence, Baby 2 crosses his arms, trapped in a jump-up ch...
My father’s funeral: my aunt says a few words, my mother cries upstairs, and I sit in the boarding area of gate 23B, Guam International Airport, watching the si...
My mother is beautiful even when she bangs her head against the wall. When she does, her black, shiny hair swings back and forth and I can see, in profile, the ...
