Tag Archives: M. Clara White

Fix It

If you could stay and listen I’d offer you my dowry of offenses, my mortified hope chest, give you my stinging, my foaming stare, the bruises I get from light, my tough silk and cracked dove. You can have my … Continue reading

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Three Hundred Pennies

The exploded pheasant. The gutted wolf fish on a pliant shell of an old gray Buick, velveteen reclining chairs with arm rests and cup holders. The orphan marine with twelve state-owned sisters: the money he sends them, the three dollars … Continue reading

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