Groping for underwear in my top drawer my fingers brush the velvet bag I shoved far in the back, not knowing where to store spent casings from the guns that fired above my mother’s casket. That was a month ago. Today—deep breath—I spill them in my hand, these hollow fossils from that blast of woe …
The First of Them The first of the études always reminds her of a day when she was thirteen, though there’s no reason to remember this one day over so many others like it, while things were still good and summer meant beautiful blue skies with her parents lazing on chaise longues near the docks, …
Susan B. Anthony had hair as black as soot, skin as white as snow. Susan B. Anthony had a red, red cape that she loved to pieces and refashioned into a banner. Wicked stepmothers tried and failed to force her to go to the ball, marry sensibly, to be the stepmother of the dreaming daughters …
