Tag Archives: Quinn White

Blinders

I go to the vet to buy special food because my cat has a small bladder. The desk is in the room’s middle, for-sale kittens stacked on the left, an aquarium glows to the right. I stare straight ahead, forget … Continue reading

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Laws

If the door is shut, open it. If the door is open, open it. If you sleep, wake up. If you’re awake, wake up. If you are silent, speak. If you speak, sing. If you pace, sit. If you sit, … Continue reading

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Under

drowsy the electric blanket thickens like the epidural remember your spine’s part in this was it spine, the pain like gas, like bad gas the room was dim a monitor like gas but coming unlike bad gas until the needle … Continue reading

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Cards at the School of Fine Arts

I played UNO with Allison. Between Biology and Chinese class, we played leaning against lockers while the school’s shoes passed, we slapped reds on blues on Skips. UNO with Allison was giddy, so frenzied I couldn’t wait a weekend to … Continue reading

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Music Box Heart

You have a music box heart. Small as a fist, it uncurls when you say good morning, flipping a pancake in cinnamon toast for the sunrise, folding our napkins into white triangles, a clockwork man unsprung from time, dust from … Continue reading

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Grounded

Pete keeps eyes in his pockets. One summer, he and his wife visit the JFK museum. Pete sticks googly eyes on a bronzed Kennedy. Upon seeing the President, Pete’s wife snaps, ‘Grounded.’ She drops his eyes in her crocodile purse. … Continue reading

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Prosciutto, Pears, and Roy Orbison

I called Roy Orbison and he came. What do you do with an Orbison at your doorstep? He leaves his guitar in the foyer beside rain boots. He knows this winter I listened to ‘Blue Bayou’ every drive home. I … Continue reading

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The Drying Machine

My blind neighbor phoned me for help into the ambulance, despite paramedic muscle. We sat together as her kidneys failed. I held her hand. “My washer sticks on spin,” she said. “My dryer’s broken,” I said. The dying don’t beep … Continue reading

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How to Pray

My dad’s going to camp to learn how to pray. He tells me there are five steps in the prayer writing process. First, one addresses god. But my dad has a speech impediment, so I hear undressing god, which makes … Continue reading

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Rationing

Save a box of 24 crayons and watch a pen of guinea pigs wear party hats. A rabbit totes an ice bucket to his hotel room between lectures on food rationing psychology: what stretching chocolate inspires. The happy shock of … Continue reading

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Shelter Animals

The butchers quit meaty gloves and sewed a quilt for my bed. They fused scraps from doll and dog dresses. The quilt arrived in a brown box. I took a blade from the medicine cabinet and split the tape between … Continue reading

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My Moustache

I sit at the orange table and think about Frida Kahlo’s moustache. She is my Halloween costume: wed brows; thorn necklace; shoulder monkey; the moustache, mine. Last fall, I failed a student. Spring semester, I left lunch and his conversation … Continue reading

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