When you’re a 2L, they’ll take you aside after registration day, and they’ll sit you down—we were in the aquatic-smelling student lounge, with Professor Stahlberg presiding, pizza sauce on his tie and his glasses riding down his nose—and they’ll tell you about post-mortem law, “post-mort tort,” Stahlberg says, dryly amused. You, already used to jokes…
No later than last night On the quiet surface of our lake Something appeared, as though pushed gently from the depths by a pale, plump hand of soft skin, fingers nimble, wading through algae and schools of fish And the people in their neat little beds in the neat little houses peppered around the water…
The screaming started about a month before the sky burst into flames. Her voice came out full, fevered, shrieking in response to seemingly nothing. Betsy and Robert first marveled at the sound of it. Even as a baby, wrapped in a singular blanket alone in Woodland Park, the officers heard no protest or complaint as…
I’m about to burst like a frozen pipe. I’m not cold though, I am burning with heat and sweating buckets. The gases inside me fuel the pilot light and keeps the system functioning. My body is excruciating and wet; existing is dangerous. It’s never been this bad, not even the leukemia in middle school. I…
They know when we are rubbery with sweat. They know how often. They know if it’s us, or just me thinking of you, my breath a flag in the air. They know what you whisper in my ear. Sometimes they interrupt. Rude, but we are louder, itching with so many urges. When I’m bitten, by…
The cyan of the YMCA pool; the clouds suffocating the sunroof; the thin ribbon of pain, fast and silver as an electric shock, that bisects my shin when I kick too hard. Chlorinated water glugs in my ears, and a whistle meant for someone else screams. This is the best part of sophomore year, will…
I examined the condenser. Three drops. Laramie moved slowly among the corn rows, stopping to pull a hopper off a wilted stalk. It squirmed in her fingers. “Fat one,” I said. She nodded, dropping it in her stew pouch. “They found a new island,” she announced. “What?” “Well, an old island from before,” she explained,…
There is a door we tap. No need to knock it hard, just enough to draw the bouncer with the clipboard out. We watch the people come and go, adding their names to the host’s list, too. They linger a breath, playing with the buttons on their coats or adjusting their scarves, before slinking off…
I always imagined that when one of our hearts would break, the other’s would shatter too. While my sister Evette and I have two separate hearts, we share a chest, a torso, and a vulva. We share most other things as well — like this one-bedroom apartment on the East side, Pollack prints covering exposed…
You don’t want me, and the force of you not wanting me creates a shape; the presence of an absence, like an amputated limb. Here’s the courtyard you aren’t crossing. Here’s the stone step under mossy tree where you don’t sit, pulling me down next to you. You don’t take me to a coffee shop…