Z.G. Tomaszewski You watch the yellow lace unwind from the young girl’s hair, stare at the stretched out spark of silk, remember the day your daughter died: glittered gold streamers whirling from handlebars; she was riding her bicycle, totter of training wheels helping to keep balance, but the hill— loose gravel and a guy driving,… More

(Interlude: Essay-Story #1)

Dr Siegel says You’ve tested negative, and you imagine that the hook hidden in his mouth pierces through each word: his bottom lip sticks against his teeth on negative, as though he could hardly bear to let it go. But Dr. Siegel is like that with words. You remember–when you came before–the particular kind of… More