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Tag Archives: Emily Yin
SALVATION ARMY. Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas.” Doing The Most Good. I’ll say. A man deposits some coins into the red bucket. Tall. Carrying a white plastic bag—why? Never mind. The velvet elves flounce and shake their handbells … Continue reading →
The night market moves in and out of focus. A photographer’s bokeh. A clutch of leaping shrimp. The sizzle of a grill. Shouts. Balloons in sky. Street vendors dart into shadow and resurface in light. In, out. In, out. Don’t forget to blink. … Continue reading →
Tell me about the time we stole our father’s cigarettes. How we crouched, the way children do over a caterpillar or a leaf, and turned them in our vengeful hands—Lucky Strikes, we decided, remembering the ashy boxes tossed on mother’s … Continue reading →
If the wave were a sluiced middle finger. Brine swills in my throat, tastes something like cherry Robitussin. The sea plaits my hair with wreaths of sand. I could be a bride or mermaid or corpse— this is a cliffhanger. … Continue reading →