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We watched our father chuck her boom box out the bedroom window.
A widow is sort of a holy figure, while a divorcée is a tawdry one.
End of October, days recede quickly into night. Leaves fall in slow motion.
There was no sense in brushing off or any other civilized thing.
“We see you tryin’ to hide. Ain’t no use tryin’ to hide in God’s House.”
Have two children to keep around the house in case one goes missing.
The guy who drove the mother to the morgue hands him an empty. Nostrils a little raw, displaced, conscripted, by your Shock and Awe.
So that’s what I’d look like if every beauty parlor in the world shut down.
It was true. We would probably never visit that place again.
Some inner voice told her that now or never her fate would be decided.
For me, Selweh was the real magic. She was nothing like my mother.
When he had passed from view, I stumbled back from the window.
How much simpler and more satisfying was the company of men.
Mostly he was in a hurry, so he’d just stick it in and away we’d go.
Water the boxed dirt, and up she’ll push, rising in red-streaked blossoms.
I dream of snakes coming out of me and through the house to find her.
Their mother was the real beauty of the family, or so everyone said.
I hear her voice in the shivering tambourines of leaves.
I only feel that here, only here, in this one place, a small rise.
Why do girls want to cheerlead? Don’t they know it objectifies women?
Sleepy and pensive, July succumbed to the day’s isolating heat.
I believed in department stores the way I believed in Germany.
We imagined the train routes through the heart of the country.
My father stood up, unable to choose which one of us to kill first.
At first my dad was optimistic that he could be a one-armed farmer.
He sees the slight swelling of her breasts in the open collar of her blouse.
Nobody knows where I am, Ned thought. No one in the whole world.
Our father turned to me and said, Why does he sound like a girl.
I saw my mother’s face turn dark like the winter sky before a storm.
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