On the drive to the crematorium, I think I make peace with your death.
It is Earth’s final snowfall / and everyone is here.
This is probably why I want him to impregnate me, so my kid won’t have to suffer, and, in turn, I won’t have to suffer.
Dripping in the color, she was sci-fi sanctified, alien and clean.
After our first week, I begin to lose things during the walks along the creek.
This explanation of my relationship with racial memory and inherited trauma, I think, started coming in.
The ship features a recreation of a slave ship's hold. The cruise prides itself on it. It is not a good recreation, if the metric is realism.
The difficult thing with illustrating is trying to find an image that complements the piece without giving it away.
This character, she treats dating and writing very similarly.
Promise me you won’t write a poem about me.