Cornish Pasty
When Don says, “Wow, she’s good,” I muster up a grudging agreement, but I can taste the bitter wilted greens of envy. I’m already lamenting my lack of...
How the Lake Saved Me
I used to be a young girl, only 18, who had left the East—where I had neither much sinned nor been much sinned to—but had been often tired, and often...
from GLOCK CHORUS
My target’s face it was pockmarked
tho hidden by a sack of ice
tho hidden like a crooked account book
fell open where the hammer hit twice...