Author Archives: Katie Sticca

  In the morning which is a hill in yellow April without you I enter the light that’s angling   against half a year’s winter; wisteria’s tangled in the bittersweet. Sunfall trying to get at   something under gorse. And … Read More

  It’s evening; the sun is slipping in the colored sky over the mall lot and the stores are closing; shoppers push their last things across the tarmac. It’s your tenth birthday; when I asked you what you wanted you … Read More

  At the clinic, a nurse taps my veins and they find their tiny voices. Blood sweeps into the vial and a chunk of snow slides from my boot. The shine on the linoleum floor is brutal, but no one … Read More

  The power plant howls everyone’s hour, portions labor and myth.   A salsa quintet rehearses on the plaza stage.   The figure on someone’s tablet screen says, we now, for the first time in history, have a candidate for … Read More

  This entry is about the U.S. state of Montana. For other uses, see Montana (disambiguation). “Big Sky Country” redirects here. For the song by Chris Whitley, see Big Sky Country (song).   1. Etymology       1.1 Big … Read More

  My kidney snarls at the white wand’s wet nose shoving lovingly into my side, taking   the hipbone-path, sliding west, and I still don’t know why   I’m here with my dress pulled up to my chest, on the … Read More

  Whatever it is that holds the chloroform rag to my mouth at midnight and goes out came back   Saturday morning inside my snooze-bar dream as a white fox,   and entered me by the soles of my feet, … Read More

  There are still the worst minutes of the dream where the dust scatters. Too much light. Too much music. Your body—realized, but unseen—just what an amount of milligrams is called. You’re aware of the rush of freshwater, but not … Read More