In the sunless wooden room at noon the mother had a talk with her daughter. The rudeness could not go on, the meanness to her little brother, the selfishness. The eight-year-old sat on the bed in the corner of the room, her irises distilled as…
4 tygodnie temu
After I broke up with someone, or someone with me, days would go by, nights, weeks, soon it would be months since I had touched anyone. i would move as little as possible, the air seemed to press on my skin, my breasts like something broken open, un-…
4 tygodnie temu
I saw my father naked, once, I opened the blue bathroom door which he always locked — if it opened, it was empty — and there, surrounded by the glistening turquoise tile, sitting on the toilet, was my father, all of him, and all of him was skin. In an instant my gaze ran…
4 tygodnie temu
How do they do it, the ones who make love without love? Beautiful as dancers, Gliding over each other like ice-skaters over the ice, fingers hooked inside each other’s bodies, faces red as steak, wine, wet as the children at birth, whose mothers are going to…
4 tygodnie temu
I get into bed with it, and spring the scarab legs of its locks. Inside, the stacked, shy wealth of his print— he could not write in script, so the pages are sturdy with the beamwork of printedness, WENT TO LOOK AT A CAR, DAD IN A GOOD MOOD AT DINNER, WENT…
4 tygodnie temu
In the middle of the night, when we get up after making love, we look at each other in complete friendship, we know so fully what the other has been doing. Bound to each other like mountaineers coming down from a mountain, bound with the tie of the delivery-room,…
4 tygodnie temu