HOLLYWOOD NAILS in Descant

Most associated a fussiness, something feminine, an element of shameful vanity with men who visited nail salons. These men punctured female space, and as such were assumed to hold some of that space within. This may have been true of him, to some extent. He was calm among women, and preferred the soft fabrics of his wife's wardrobe to the rough cottons of his own; when Diane was gone, he sometimes took a slip from her drawer and slept with it near his face, on his pillow. But Hollywood Nails, for Bill, was touch...

Descant / 2017

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DEAD BEACH in Memorious

Jessy pulled herself up over the fence and cursed her sister. Veena was gone again, run off ahead into the sun and across the cracked land that led to the creek bed they called Dead Beach. Maybe she was gone for good. Maybe she would turn up the next week, body bloated beside a hole, ankle broken, snake bite on her purpled arm. Jessy’s heart beat faster. She licked dirt from between her lips. But the little girl was there in the distance, alive after all: dark against the horizon, matted braid brushing the top of her jeans, bent over a pure point of light...

Memorious 28 / November 2017

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HOUSEWORK in The Texas Review

Moira woke at six, sunlight from the cockeyed, stuck venetian slicing the bed in half. On the way downstairs, a splinter pierced her palm; the banister was rough and cracked. In the kitchen, as she emptied stale, yellow water from the kettle, she saw that the hot and cold sink taps were reversed and that the oven door lacked a proper seal. Everywhere she looked, she found work to do. She did her calisthenics next to a broken rocking chair, and by six twenty she was in the shower, mentally ticking off the fix-its...

The Texas Review / Volume 38 Number 1 & 2 / Spring/Summer 2017

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