Everywhere, there are rainbows—on the stairs to Girls’ Block, around the bulletin board announcing our meals for the week, on the playground equipment where we sit during Outdoor Time. (Sometimes Nayeli goes down the rainbow slide, and we follow her, laughing like it’s a big joke—us, pretending to be kids.) There’s a rainbow on the…
1 The reader laid out a bone, a feather, a small rock, then smeared the cards in an arc across the floor. She asked Fern to choose. Fern turned over a woman leaping or falling headfirst from a tower, orange flames bursting from every window. “Oh,” Fern said. “That doesn’t look good.” “It’s not always…
1. When she was twelve and I was ten, Zara stole a handful of henna stickers from my mother’s beauty parlor and applied them up and down her chest. “Boob tat,” she captioned the selfie on Facebook. In the two hours it remained available online, Zara’s adorned sternum reached every aunty in the Jersey Shore…
Translated from the Korean by Bruce and Ju-Chan Fulton 1 An ordinary-looking man was not what I expected. He was of average height, at five feet six inches, and had a compact build. His body was marked with scars and blemishes but bore no tattoos. I detected none of the anxiety and fretfulness that convicts…
Two boys sit on a log washed white by the tides and wind. A driftwood fire hisses on the sand. Down the beach, the black waves roar. It’s August 1995, on the west coast of Vancouver Island. One boy, one teenager, is pale. The other is dark. Between them, they pass the bottle of Scotch…
THE CLUMSIEST I When I pulled the book down, only vaguely curious, it fell open to fighting bulls. People seemed glad when the bull was driven in. It has a pretty red breast, but because it comes in winter to the window to be fed? Nothing here looked like it might have already been…
I cried in public again. Drive, I said to my beloved, drive. I can’t have people watch me cry. It’s bad enough watching people watch me touch fruit at the grocery store. Prickly pear glaring across the sweet heaps. It’s not my fault the citrus is too soft. It’s not my fault you blame me….
Translated by Iain Galbraith |one’s still clattering in the box, in safekeeping like a child’s first tooth i and then it is struck in the thickest darkness: ah! here i am. or was.
Five: Pedigree of watermelons No one mistakes a watermelon for a meteorite. The theory of watermelons vs. stars is completely irrelevant. But we cannot deny that the earth is a kind of star. Therefore, it’s implausible to deny that watermelons have the lineage of stars. Four: Watermelon, ancestral hometown We live outside the…
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