Poetry
Mar/Apr 2022
The Conversion
You picked them this morning from a tree in the corner of the yard. You liked the way the stem gave to your pull, how the branch lifted, the scent […]
Poetry
Mar/Apr 2022
In the book we are reading together,
the father dies before the first sentence: Nnamdi didn’t want to look at his body in the casket. We pass it back and forth, taking turns, our heads casting shadows […]