I Brought You Back an Armadillo
What I can’t quite say to my husband, or to myself: that it is you I am thinking of as I take the armadillo from the shelf.
The Chimney Always Survives
There’s nothing quite so sinister as a hot wind on a California night.
Strangled
I need to speak now; he’s expecting it. Waiting for an answer. Summoning all my energy, I push the air from my lungs, forcing it over the golf ball wedged in my throat.