Crooked Love
Air hangs from his mouth and she locks it into place
Category Poetry and Prose Contest
There are no Filipinos in Mississippi
the communion of onion and garlic wafting from inside
Brains
The highway stretched out ahead forever, flat and dark, like vhs tape.
That Night
A moth kept hitting glass. I watched it lose.
Velophilia
Bikes are time travelers, Magnanimous Pooh-Bahs
But They Never Taught Us Créole
At home we heard the music, held the fabric of the madras
American Math
A moth kept hitting glass. I watched it lose.
Daughters On The Brink
I want to ask if he meant two nights ago, when he first brought it up after a long day at work
Flying Kite
the crackling grey gloom
Calling Home
my father prays on a fraying mat