The Finder
How can you tell where things hide? How do you hear their drifting as they leave snail-like clues shifting through solid wall? You’ve reconciled lost spouses of earrings, netted a …
Read MorePoetry
Lostlandia
The national anthem’s a strange genre: pomp straining to conjure a circumstance under which a love song to a shaded patch on the map isn’t just sad, a train wreck …
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Victoria Soto
In the poem I show to no one, a young teacher hides her students from a gunman, lifts them into cupboards—her hands smoothing their hair, closing cupboard doors. Thousands of …
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Book Lovers
Picture this tryst: Gogol’s nose and Kafka’s roach. When Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from troubled dreams, he found himself in bed with— a nose! Their love all clicks and …
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Unification of Church and State
His wooden rosary, a broken abacus, hangs on the bedroom wall, draped around a framed, colourized picture of a little boy kneeling bedside. Palms pressed, fingers steepled, whispering the saints’ …
Read More Margaret Rose
The females of my family extolled the virtues of our Queen, her cautious charm, the opera glove that sheathed the guiding arm. For this was ours, the Englishwoman’s mould. But …
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How Do You Like the Underworld?
The completely to me magical screen sits in the middle of this black desk, the one I put together with such trouble, following the instructions, muttering its nonsensical Swedish name …
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From the Drawer
I pulled this out to hang on a wall in my room. But the humidity in the drawer has damaged it. I won’t frame this photograph. I should have protected …
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