In the Mission hospital, Esther Moses was shown
an undersized infant whose face was shut in sleep,
the cord still belted around her, wrapped in newspaper.
Thina Thandi, the Tamil words that mean Daily News,
mocked Esther’s memory, smelling like ink, first thing
in the morning, the rest of her life. A Sister Gertrude
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Marsyas’ Art
By Carol Frost
When the god came with his lute and knife, asking, Have you made your last song?—I told him I would make him the song for death: great light of light, […]
Clown
It was summer, and the clown had come to the same restaurant to which we’d come for a piece of strawberry pie. Big white smile. Wig of fire. The sun […]
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