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I’ve Stayed in the Front Yard

My father never drank except at Christmastime, I’ve never seen a brown bottle drain until I was seven, stayed at my grandmother’s house and knew the skank smell of alcohol, in winter where cigarette smoke looks ghostly, the ash tray a black patch of night, he sat on the steps in front of the garden shed, and I watched breathed pain billow across the snowy back yard and came back to my grandmother’s warm kitchen, where I could not smell all the taint of sin that was roadside addiction and played on the crime shows my mother watched on the TV, the dark living room in the night all my life. . .

A Communal Announcement

Our planet is suffering from an ongoing environmental crisis, and it seems that our citizens are contributing to the problem. Due to misleading information, our community has been focused on what was once considered a healthy, environmentally friendly diet: veganism. However, clinical trials have revealed a new diet that is far superior: carnivorism, an innovative lifestyle that focuses on only eating meat. . .

Seventeen

I’m 17, and I am always in love, but never with myself. I eat lunch on a Saturday alone.mI spend fifty dollars on books.
I knit an ugly, mustard-colored scarf.

The Probability of Vincent

He lets his boiling tears well up and spill down his face. In the pulsing world outside Vincent’s consciousness, it becomes difficult to tell whether the man shivers at the cold around him or the cold in his head.

海の涙. (sea tears.)

The tide pools stank of brine and salt. Chunks of rotting seaweed dried out from the sun were stuck between the shallow crags, waiting for the ocean to pull them back out into the sea. The song appeared to be coming from the direction of a cluster of several large jagged rocks.

The Sun Returns

I could always tell how she was doing by the number of tea mugs by the sink. Did they leave rinds of spilled dregs next to the faded plastic basin? Did she use her favorite mug or grab one at random? […]

Almost Ghazal for Broken Girlhoods / Aubade for Our Re-opening

for wiping her hands into hourglasses, say forget this picture, say wif with more teeth, veil of sand funneling itself into woman: wif.

To the Republic / My Mind, My Body and I

The next person I was supposed to call just so happened to be named Justice. My generic script read, “Is Justice there?” I giggled. I was wondering the same thing. I dialed in the phone number, And the voicemail lady answered, She said, “I’m sorry. The number you dialed is unavailable.”