Letters to Sepia
Prison smells different when you laugh
Category Prose
Montezuma Red
A blue door, illuminated by our carbonated haze
Brains
The highway stretched out ahead forever, flat and dark, like vhs tape.
Lady Luck
The hem of her jeans catches on a piece of pockmarked driftwood
Summer Vacation
I spotted my son’s dangling wet hands.
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
Crooked Love
Air hangs from his mouth and she locks it into place
Jetsam
It was on this spot of shoreline that Ben’s body had washed up, almost a month ago now.
Early Summer, Late Springtime
For the first time in my life, it feels like there’s no path forward
Those Coming From the Frost
Outside, that bright horizontal line cut the land in two. In his mind, Murrey was everywhere but the kitchen. In his mind, the bitterness of the coffee diluted, and it was morning.