Tag Archives: Carla Criscuolo

Inquiry

What does it mean that your letters always arrive during those pale grey moments when I’m perched on the rail between living and oblivion and need someone to nudge me away from destruction? What does it mean that you always … Continue reading

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Thief

I awoke to darkness, unsure if I had risen too early or too late, blinked your blurry outline into resolved silhouette, phosphorescent in the glow of your computer screen. I stared, slack-jawed at your blood-smeared legs, deep slashes like rungs … Continue reading

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Restraint

I put my hand on your shoulder and feel a beehive under my fingers, a subtle buzzing as fierce and resigned as the tears dripping off your nose. Is it because your pet rabbit died last week, or because your … Continue reading

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Why I Can’t Visit You in Upstate New York

Because you have three kids, two dogs, and a pet python, none of which are over the age of five. Because you spend every spare minute scouring the internet for articles about the negative effects of binary gender norms to … Continue reading

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Rome

He doesn’t remember that my mother is his daughter, or that the woman wearing the black sheath dress and bouffant hairdo in the portrait hanging above his bed was once his wife. He doesn’t remember the address of the music … Continue reading

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