Poetry

Mirror, Mirror

“What’s that?” My father and I were cleaning out my grandmother’s railroad apartment and had come near the end of the hallway with her chest of drawers. “Your grandmother’s bed sheets.” He …

Flight

You’re strapped in for the hour flight, when a young woman, all flush and out of breath, stops at your row, apologizes with her eyes for making you get up. You fumble with the seat belt, …