i want to wash my skin with white clouds; wash until they feel the insides of me so deeply they cry upon my skin; until they are heavy and gray with my sadness; until they are empty of the weight of the sky above them; blue by day, black by night. I want to move…
Month: September 2014
the girl in the outhouse
I was born on an oddly shaped island just below Cuba. Places like Kingston, Montego Bay and St. Ann are reminders of a colonized space that begs to forget its past. I couldn’t forget, but I didn’t want to remember either. I instead wanted to save memories of my uncle and our moments in the…
a soul apart (excerpt)
Mia was planting yams in the garden. Her hands touched the rich dark soil. It was cool and slightly moist. She ran her fingers through it then scooped out a handful. A worm hung off the side, wiggling its way back to the ground. It fell from her soil filled hand to the ground and…