October 2010
5 posts
Living without regrets.
Petit Monstre
In Our Bedroom, After The War: Communion, Jeanann Verlee
I know a boy who called his girlfriend’s body a “crime scene.” Dad, my body is a crime scene. My body is lint and gasoline and matchstick. My body is a brush fire. It’s ticking, Dad, a slow alarm. I have rain boots. Lots of them. It isn’t raining anymore. The words are coming back, Dad. The way they fit and jump in the mouth. I want...
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