Tag Archives: Tamara Burross Grisanti

Entropy

I am untangling the string lights from the boughs of the artificial tree in the living room of the house we shared, and my dead husband is sitting on the couch, watching me the way he used to when I … Continue reading

Posted in Fiction | Tagged | 5 Comments

My Own Purgatory

After the azure thrumming sky, veined with the bare reaches of birches, is shipwrecked in jet—horizon frozen in the orange city-light as in an ampule of amber—I plummet blind into the autumn night: its screaming lexicon of black skies, gales, … Continue reading

Posted in Fiction | Tagged | Leave a comment