Firewood
The sand is raked perfectly into lines of dried ravines. Water in the tetsubin, ready for gyokuro.
Writer’s Choice
Post-Mortem
I sigh with the tree. The tears sprout from my eyes, dripping onto the tangled roots beneath.
Kym Nacita Poetry Collection
Lying in bed. I kiss his lips. Trying to taste the ocean I was born into but he is not home. Not even close.
Elevator Pitch
The hypnotic tingling draws her inward. Her mind starts humming a tune she never dreamed of singing.
Dislodging the Hook
My uncle once brought me fishing at his gun club, another family conspiracy to masculinize me. We were deep in what some locals call Swamp Yankee territory…
A Chunk of Ice Tumbling in a Thunderstorm
We are in my girlfriend’s apartment in Lawrence, a room of white walls and carpet crisscrossed with fresh vacuum trails…
Collapse
Dark hair matted to the little girl’s head. Her lips were dried and cracked; her eyes sunken. Despite her olive-toned skin, she was pale.
Sprinkling Fairy Dust
With trembling hands, Millie gently removed the lid of the urn and exhaled with the first release of gray powder.
Shadow
She could choose, at least, which parts of him to cherish, and which parts to use as examples of how not to behave.