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 ...

Grief is a part of life that I had never experienced in depth before. Two weeks ago, my grandmother passed away, and I still find myself trying to search for a normal that doesn’t seem to exist anymore. Writing has always been a passion. I might not always have something to say, and a lot ...

My father had the great luck, or amazing foresight, to have “I love you” be last words he said to his children. I remember sitting on the floor, on my mother’s favorite blanket, sewn by her grandmother. The sun didn’t quite breach the gray cloud cover outside our screen door. There was a movie, The ...