September, 2010
Les Fleurs Mortes
Fiction
I knew it when she started leaving things at my apartment after that first overnight stay. The toothbrush. The pair of jeans. The earrings on the dresser. The dog-eared novel on the nightstand. The head in the freezer. The freezer bloomed like our love. At first I only had to move the odd hand or breast to get to a bag of frozen peas. Then it was larger parts—legs, arms, half a rib cage. The leaky kidneys wrapped in the Kroger bag tipped the scale.
read »
Page 1 of 1 pages
Book Reviews »
Columns »
Interviews »
Fiction »
See articles by contributor on the Contributors' Page »
Monthly Archives
August, 2011, July, 2011, May, 2011, March, 2011, February, 2011, January, 2011, October, 2010, September, 2010, July, 2010, April, 2010, October, 2009, September, 2009, July, 2009, April, 2009, March, 2009, September, 2008, June, 2008, May, 2008, December, 2007, November, 2007, October, 2007, August, 2007, May, 2007, March, 2007, February, 2007, January, 2007, December, 2006, November, 2006, October, 2006, September, 2006, March, 2006,