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Blood. I see it everywhere. Nothing strange in that. It has replaced rain and fills the river. Perhaps the world always ...
Tradition weighs her down, petticoat rebellion becomes a new fad, she just can’t bear to watch or to see, as her d...
A mineral comfort amidst cold marble and glass. Women have done this before. Look upon my cracked brass mirror-face; hea...
There is no one clear thing. Only the rush flood of memory, stealing toward us keeping its promise And words, our last r...
We have reached the edge. Holding on to the railing of the Santa Fe Bridge, I can see the Rio Bravo&#039s dirty wat...
She’s nearly done, gained seven more feathers and she’s eager to run. Beyond this girl named Petite Belief. ...
I was my mistress’s slave – -that way my identity flew: this breath in my chest would knock the canvas edge ...
Soon, it will be Durga Pujo and I will go to the Hindu Temple. My mother and I will go alone because we do not have anyo...
The mothers of the disappeared live in shadows They can’t see their stubby swollen fingers in the mirror anymore T...
Outside there are berries and shadows and strangers. Once when Meredith walked out the door, she heard screaming and cry...
Elsa blew a cloud of steam away from the cracked Christmas mug and sat it on the cluttered table. Her slippers rasped on...
I see her on my wide-screen tv, see the story through her bloodshot eyes: “The thick needle pokes my thumb, red drople...
I came out of a cauldron before the fire settled and walked across the flames into the landscape made for me. They found...
“All day I’ve built a lifetime and now the sun seeks to undo it” —Ann Sexton, “The Fury of Sunsets,” The...