You keep the bones. I learned this as a girl, cleaning after a chicken dinner.
I was just taking some time off, I told myself. From college. But more and more it felt like from life.
The little bird’s so still, just looking up at me with those robin eyes, just staring like it sees what’s deep inside me, like it’s stunned by the horror of it. I think that’s when I begin to understand: sin’s damn personal.
The baby is so small, lying there on the changing table. If she fell she would surely break, maybe die. The woman repeats this: I cannot let you die, baby. I cannot let you die.