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Katie Sticca
613 posts

Self-portrait in a Heat Wave

poetry
  As if the underworld were breaking through, lake beds from Uzbekistan to California emerge relinquishing their litter— suicides, the murdered, the accident- prone who one time slipped beneath the…

What We Learn

Memoir
  The soft pink lining of my cheeks, the ridges along the roof of my mouth, the recesses of my throat: the year before I turned thirty, they all betrayed…

Let Us Consider Drunken Women

Memoir
  The best guess, says the seed package, is that the name for this fabulous lettuce, Drunken Women, derives from her frizzy-headed look—emerald leaves tipped in dark claret red. A…

Animal Mouths

Memoir
  It was a surprise, really, that we both wanted them—the twin ceramic dogs that live on top of the china cabinet. Will and I have inherited many things between…

Miracle

Fiction
  You are eight months pregnant, panting on a treadmill at the New York Sports Club on East 76th Street. Despite some difficulty breathing, there’s a smile on your face.…

The Last Voyage of Captain Black

Fiction
  His ship was the pride of the Liverpool yards; her sails, taut in the favorable trades; her belly, stuffed with African rosewood fit to win the favor of the…

Sudden Bigger Lady

Fiction
  She tells herself dickhead’s gotta go because she is everything she is and more without his dirt hands sweat stink licorice breath hot like fire Come ere baby you…

Cottonmouth

Fiction
  In the beginning is the fish stink, a padlock pinched through a doorlatch eye. When I’m eight years old, my mother lifts the hem of her nightshirt to show…

Clara Schumann Washing Dishes

Fiction
  Sometimes I think of all the people I’ll never know. Even now someone is kneeling. Not worship, but praying for a line to follow. My life is full. Seven…