Only when the strain in my cheeks became unbearable did I realize I was smiling. Regardless, lines of salted emotions stained my face. The memories of Gran brought on a mental fog, yet my body felt light. Muscles relaxed from oils and incense, remnants of when she occupied the small bedroom. Much of her was ...

I was too far into my memories to detect the emptiness of the wooden house; the silence that fell to the pigeons perched on the branches of the mango tree outside. The rocking chair, with its comforting creaks, grew quiet behind me, and the warm sensation that permeated my body and relaxed my soul vanished ...

Each breath ignited a fire in my lungs. Still, I remained in place as my hand traced the aged closet that displayed my grandmother’s bold, African print frocks a year after her death. I don’t know why I chose this dreary, overcast day to store her away. It added to the weighty silence in the ...

She caches her jewelry Cardboard tubes under her mattress Hidden from faces she can’t remember Haunting her with changed bedsheets While disembodied voices perched on telephone wires Check on her She gripes They’re stealing my things At the liar: Voice too old to be her daughter Sunday – no – Wednesday No How can it ...