Short Story
The Christmas Story
This time of year, there are so many people pretending excitement when they feel none.
My Mother, an Ouroboros
Who were we? Puerto Ricans stuck in a drift, still moving from an American haunting howling on The Island, howling in us.
Eagle Son
The swastika on his sign is hand-drawn, a little uneven. Painted, not permanent marker. He made that thing himself. A Nazi crafter.
An Exercise in Paranoia
The prayer for air safety then begins to taxi to a halt: “Charge your angels, oh Lord, to escort the plane from take-off to landing.”
The Moon’s Navel
“You’re Mexican!” he said a little too enthusiastically, like I was just what he’d been looking for. I worried that he was going to put me in his museum or something.
Year of the Pony
I can’t stop seeing the brush in her hand as a scalpel, her countless bracelets jangling as she prepares to make the next cut.
Talking to Your Kids About Astronomical Phenomena
My daughter was fearless about the near-earth object. “It’s just ice and sky dust,” she told me when I asked if she felt afraid.
Riding Out the Storm with the One-Arm Man
Is years this place been here on this island and is years I see people age from this heaviness.
Whisper
The cashiers and the butcher had eyed my wrist like it told them everything they needed to know about me. But the bracelet meant nothing to the raven. It was his toy, the part of me meant for him.
Big Fan
Of course Tinsley knew Mia’s book launch was on Thursday. No one could talk about anything else online all weekend, but she hadn’t dared to picture herself actually there.