Tag Archives: Karie Fugett

American April

The first time I saw an amputee was in April 2006 at Bethesda Naval Hospital. I was twenty years old. The man was attractive, probably in his late teens to early twenties, with overgrown brunette hair, the beginnings of a … Continue reading

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I remember the metallic taste of your flesh on my tongue. How my teeth cracked on your desiccated bones. You broke to pieces in my mouth. I carried you in my cheeks. Karie Fugett’s work can be found or is … Continue reading

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The Dust of My Husband

My lungs once devoured air full of your dust and now they are addicts in withdrawal. I searched in your threadbare pillow, your favorite shoes, the ashes you left in the fireplace. I did not find dust, but your lovers … Continue reading

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