Little Doves

He calls us his little birds, his little doves. We do not call him God. He tells us this.


image of red, mustard, black and white swirling pattern

Mother of All Pigs

There is an unspoken fear that a daughter’s innocence, hence marriageability, would somehow be threatened.

Pigeon Forge

Beatriz feels alarmingly soft in your hands, and you graze her body with your palms the way you would pet the long grass by the river where you live. She tosses her dark hair aside, wraps her hand over yours, and clenches down on her own flesh.

Unsafe Is Not A Feeling

In therapy, I was used to experiencing myself as a sieve, a bum mirror, a talking machine. My body language was typically involuntary. “Scared?” I said, though that sounded so much more specific. Around us, potted plants offered oxygen.

La Mujer Alacran

A month after the attack on her body, she woke to find she could not peel her fingers apart; the skin of her hands was fused together. She could no longer steer a car. They were claws, bent and poised in defense.

photo of a shadow of a vase of flowers drawn with smudged black pastel

Barry Four Voices

I tell myself that I feel love but people like me don't feel things like love. Do they?

Stevie Versus the Negative Space

everything was about combinations of pairs, everything was about relationships between people and their feelings, everything was about sex, everything was about where you came from, and what you wore while coming.