Bonus Child

It’s easier to trash fairytales and racism than it is to face the simplicity of my conundrum: that I’ve inherited the defunct reality of a stranger’s manifest desire.


A child's hand holds a large brush on the side of a horse.

Horse Crazy

I have always been part rider, part horse. Ready to bolt, a sucker for a sugar cube, and I like to be groomed.

A braid of dark blond hair with a black ribbon tied at the end, with the ribbon loosely going out to the sides.

Hair and Teeth

The brown braid of a bracelet could be leather, not obviously hair until you get up close.

Looking down at the top of ten unopened soda cans. The cans are wet with condensation.

Soda Money

Note to self: When you grow up, men will dole out cash.

A streetlight reflects off the windshield of a car, parked at night.


We were habits built and snapped, promises made and snuffed.

Lisa Simpson carries at saxophone, looking up at a man's silhouette against the moon.

My Cotton Creole Sister

She chooses her dignity over her desire to be “in” with the crowd, no posse but her own.

A close-up shot of the ocean after sunset.

Body of Water

so, I ask you, will you allow yourself to picture the miraculous immeasurable sea