Conflict with a Childhood God

This story appears in
26.1 - Winter/Spring 2014

Also in this issue

When you think of me, don't think of me wooing/the bed all thick-tongued with vodka./O god, come to my assistance./don't think of me baby-/oiled in a green bikini with dirty feet.

Spontaneous Human Combustion

Merry-Go-Round

We are waiting in line for the carousel. My mother's breath is short and shallow. the closer we get, the more must support her. I'm dizzy, she says. I have to lie down. Her breath as if. In labor.

Typhoon Poem (Two)

The teacher can't hear the children/over all this monsoon racket,/all the zillion spoons whacking/the rusty roods, all the wicked tin streams/flipping full-grown bucks off their hooves.

Fauxbade

I teach all day, get a weak signal at night,/Malbec, Idol, pasta, peas, cherries. Night, night./Wake at three a.m. to wind-streaked dark, I know/death thinks about me, like a dog...

Conflict with a Childhood God

2024 Gulf Coast Prize in Fiction: Before You Dance

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