“They don’t know humans, so they are fearless.” ~William Vollman[1]   They, the girls, braid each other’s hair, slide on sandals and grab thin, purple jackets they won’t need for the summer outside.   Below a furious drum of sun in skinny clouds, color-drained weeds faint like discarded bits of sewing thread.   The…

  I don’t remember growing up. I don’t remember when Jesus stopped being normal and “love thy neighbor” didn’t always apply. I don’t remember when swearing became okay or when gossip became common. I don’t remember when my appearance began to matter or when boys stopped being gross. I don’t remember when politics were irrelevant…

I’ve taught my daughter to be keen of mirrors and never trust them, because they are man-made. Glass. Too easy to shatter. Like her confidence and her voice, easily fragmented and once the slivers work their way under her skin, It’s nearly impossible to extract them. Instead I’ve taught my daughter to treat the world…

  For so long, I’ve held you here next to my heart, our bodies filling the empty and soft spaces. Your mouth like cushions and your lips a delicate cage with a singing bird inside. But now, you must forget what you’ve learned, and balance your tongue, the way a bird sits in her nest…

  White privilege attacked my family directly My son was the victim   We were shopping at Burlington Coat Factory, It was my birthday, a supposedly happy occasion   While my son played with his fidget spinner, I scanned the shelves, searching for bath & body products   We had only been in the store…