Should we tame this tendency to think ourselves giants, a populace packed with gullible Gullivers while frostbit Lilliputians plunge pickaxes into our ice cream cones? We’re not alone in…
a palette of blushes, fragments of womanhood after Sei Shōnagon It depends on the man, it depends on the season what shade of pink you want against your skin:…
The kitchen fills with unusable things, the mouth never forgives the tongue, the nosebleed comes on fast, fat red sprays hitting the counter like a bad fireworks finale, candy-colored…
than have apologized for misgendering me. The problem is I don’t lick their palm after. Don’t sit at their feet. Don’t eat shit. The problem is the conversation starts…
I call them lightning bugs. He calls them fireflies. Our daughter is four and has not yet decided. She tries each name in the same evening, in the same wet…