“I know what you’re thinking — I don’t belong here,” Sam speaks to the portrait above the bed as though the woman depicted in it is the central antagonist in his life’s story. She could be a passive-aggressive aunt, or a confrontational spouse he needs some time away from. “You want me to leave? Well, I …
Continue reading “Playing Chicken Eating Crow” By Janie Kronk
Wait a moment.The boys are laughing outside,Chasing leaves through the dust.Pale leaves curl around the sill,Like fragile ears bending to listen.I have your words in my hand.They weigh heavy. Just paper,A bit of ink, traced there byA cold and trembling hand.Yet I feel worlds between my fingers.Not just this one, but the next.I have always …
Halmeoni The English language has more than a million total words, but somehow it is still not sufficient. There is no English word to describe the feeling of missing or grieving for a person you have never met. There is no word to describe how I feel about my grandparents in Korea, whose names I …
i remember how when you spoke english it grated into your mouth the way grandma used a microplane and citrus zest, all blender-juice syllables and sandpaper edges, LAHN-lee instead of lonely GOOD DEY instead of grieving & i remember the way your eyes looked like plums, soft, bruised dark, mouth curving in a lemon peel …
I remember you dancing. a tangle of slender limbs twisting and curving— the melody swirling out of idle heart strings eyes closed succumbing wild fantasies. I still dance. I'm dancing on shattered glass as I let it cut my soul and I bleed the rain that falls from these skies. I remember you, scribbling on …
Continue reading “To My 9-Year-Old Self” By Shenali Wijesinghe
Grandma cooked up enough food to fill the wagon, the wagon she had me pull from her apartment to our house. She knew Dad wasn’t home and hoped he wouldn’t notice all the food she had made for us, hoped we’d eat it quickly, then hide the rest. Later that day, the day everyone learned …
Burnt Pine 