In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

The Pink House Ice falls from frozen laundry – what will we do with her? Grandma’s warm butterfly cookies just before Christmas. Her hall’s patterned floors and until the Eve, sewing quilts from my old dresses. She says our birthdays are holy and to not ruin anything. In order to not ruin anything we sleep in the very middle of our persons and dream what she tells us to: of the flame of a flaming ark. Of her street-actor’s way of life. Placing sage at the car wreck during midwinter’s midnight storm and the only comfort will be spring comets, autumn tornados, and summer not guessing what we were yet. Father’s old secretive women. 48 ...

Share