Her shoulders round over the line of light while she betters the wren’s dangerous song, fingers ticking to channel air. The flute gleams, trills, organizes flight, the crowd struck as she doubles over birdcall. The scene is small, the making … Continue reading →
On the way out of the sanctuary we pause for the uncomfortable handshake with the preacher, who says she has googled my husband and me and how she loves poets. I look at my toes, hidden nicely away, don’t tell … Continue reading →