Explore
Women & Menexpand_moreAlbert came to her rescue. “The Great Gatsby’s our religion,” he said.
Ella knew she hadn’t hurt Sebastian, but she knew she’d betrayed him.
The man said in a hard voice, “I wanna fuck you, little Indian girl.”
We’re tired. In bed, we hold hands. We watch TV. But do you want more?
I miss sex. I really liked it, and I was good at it, if I do say so myself.
Mama would say beware of the little flaws that make one homely.
Amy put her arm around his shoulders. My boy. Isn’t he wonderful?
His eyes always astonish her. Iridescent blue, flecked with black. Her husband was gone, two years later than she should’ve thrown him out.
A small circle of friends and family babysat so she could go to school.
We’re fat! So what? They hadn’t yet tired of this chant, the play’s refrain.
I am part dumb, and blind, and deaf, and untasting and unfeeling.
It wants to name the dead—without a name you wander lost in the sky.
What I became was not pretty. Like a needle on water-warped paper.
When an adult falls, children are stunned and cry, “Mommy! Mommy!”
I hightailed it out of the hospital like my ex-wife was a prison I’d escaped.
While they stand in line Robin leans into his chest. They don't talk.
It’s like his bottom half is not man but a strong horse.
A whippoorwill called, a lonely voice among the cedars.
Can there have been something in my letter, that unlucky letter?
We can be naked in black light, the smell of unwash and old pot.
“I don’t think I can do this,” she says, after a pause. “I don’t trust you.”
The girls got drunk, danced to Russian karaoke under disco-light glitz.
We’re stuck floating around on the surface of our lives like kids in a pool.
Best-selling author Melanie Gideon reads from her novel Wife 22.
The light is like a benediction. My husband reaches for my hand.
My job requires me to make things disappear like a Vegas magician.
Appearance does not really appear, but it appears to appear.
The nights she and Wade have sex she can’t do so without feeling guilty.
Dexter was unconsciously dictated to by his winter dreams.
He begrudged how money poured through her hands like water.