from Bakandamiya
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Articles
Corrosion
Everything softened, edgeless, peacefully geometric:the fence posts wearing elbows of white, the pool cover snow-smothered, the bird feeder topped with a delicate hat,no birds attempting a December refueling.The truth—it was always the squirrels who ate best, plumping themselves on what they stole. I’ve seen them hurtle their tight little bodiesfrom my shingles, latching to the …
The Witch House
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from Haske
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Horizon
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Flare
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Of Blood & God & Dirt
“You ready?” the phlebotomist asks, holding out two vials. I nod and joke, “Sure, I’ve got enough.” He laughs. This is his kind of humor, “Of course you do—twelve gallons’ worth inside. And as soon as I draw this blood,” he tightens the elastic tourniquet around my upper arm, “your brain sends a signal to …
At the Electric Stove
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My Long Poem
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Reading a Book of Armenian Baby Names the Night Before My Water Breaks
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