O’hara

He washes under cold water and his sins clog the drain. Blocks of black bakhoor burn by the mirror filling the bathroom with the scent of the Kaaba.

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You Can’t See Me

The bus, like all buses in Hyderabad, smells like lemons… and people. Landlocked and sweltering, Hyderabadians have developed an affinity for citrus.

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A Learned Man

I was ten years old when I concluded my grandfather was illiterate. I approached him with one of my books one day...

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Pilgrimage

You stand at edge of the hole that your mother dug for herself — not for you — but still. You peer down, at the stairs planted into the dirt wall...

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Jubilee

A leaf breaks through the rainy mist and spirals to the gravel. “Nick, look!” Bria’s gaze follows the rock face up to where its peak hides in the fog.

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Paddling Toward Peace

Today I will lay him to rest, scattering his ashes in this extraordinarily beautiful setting.

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Reflections on Love and Loss

Here is nourishment, we tried to say, here is something to sustain the lives remaining, the hearts that still beat..

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Staying Productive as a Writer: 8 Essential Tips

Some writers say that they can’t work under deadline – they can create only when inspiration comes. They ignore milestones.

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Old Dog, New Tricks

As soon as Alan Baker walked through the door, he knew he was in trouble. There was a less-than-subtle sign...

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feu.

The smoke doesn’t choke me anymore. I took the hell you made for me and made it home...

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Shilling

Maryn concentrated on the feeling of his touch, the cool sensation that passed over her skin...

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Sometimes I Feel Like Chernobyl

I wanted to plug my ears. I wanted to run away. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me...

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Sorry

I can't do this. I can't parent without him. I can't hold this family together. I am failing them. I am failing everyone.

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An Ode (Apology) to My Lungs

Some catalyst would send my heart racing, my lungs suddenly too large for my rib cage. Mouth glued to a vaporizer...

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The Cats

The man lying on the hospital bed knows that he is dying. Beside him, the heart monitor stutters, falters, returns to a steady pace once more, each time the rhythm slower.

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Book Review: Pondering Beauty During a Pandemic

Shapes of Native Nonfiction delivers 27 lyric essays from 18 indigenous authors. The essays are grouped into four sections—technique, coiling, plaiting, and twining.

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Out of Kilter

I long for that boring state of alignment that I can rely on sharing with those around me...

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In Parts

My friends detonate their truth bombs right in my face.

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