In a motel, outside of Vegas, I lay awake staring at the ceiling. Wes is snoring, curled up with his bunny that used to be mine. I want to turn on the TV but Wes needs to sleep and so do I. Mom says she’ll be home before five. She taught me how to read…
Category: Issue 9
Issue 9.1 – Poetry
This woman, Lily, is long-boned, legs like skewers, empty breasts lying on furrows of ribs. She smiles at guests who kiss, kiss, planting babies in her lap. Food appears – magic; fish is chicken, porridge is soup…and beautiful. The old Lily was hidden in layers of faded muscle, dressed in blue-flowered polyester sacks. Fourteen children…
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