Things I’ve Learned on the Road
I remember the fire trucks with all the lights flashing and the noise and the woman screaming down the street. I was six, the teachers whispered nervously…
I remember the fire trucks with all the lights flashing and the noise and the woman screaming down the street. I was six, the teachers whispered nervously…
The mind-numbing atrocities at home and abroad dare me to respond. It’s as if world events conspired to belittle me, taunting me to try to make sense of bloodbaths…
My breasts once wept at the first musings of a strangers hunger-smacking lips, a pursed, round strawberry and wet with the taste of milk still on the tongue…
On edge of a razor-guarded campus, Marigolds tower to meet drooping pines. Though unaware as cheerful children, Dry Texas earth spells death for them both.
Displayed within, life’s moments extrapolated, tangible anguish, remnants of sorrow. With haphazard intent, encapsulated vestiges scattered…
He guides his 1950 Massey-Harris tractor out the battered grey doors of the old barn. The rusted hinges of the barn door match the faded paint…
Today is the first day of my last period. I know because in three weeks, when my body prepares to do it again, I will run into a man with a knife.
Marcia chose the little photography shop in North Park because one of her work colleagues had recommended it. She’d called the day before…
A newly-appointed primary school teacher got off the rattletrap at the pukka road and headed on foot to the village that nestled among the citrus orchards…