Gnashing Teeth Publishing

Grief is the silence that burdens the sound — one house, two homes two minds, the bones of all that hurts and remains.   The moon is hung with echoes

Standing in the checkout line, I waved hello, but I didn’t recognize you. Once amicable, previously approachable, you were not there.   Disturbed, but not surprised, I recalled hints of

I stutter out children’s verses in my Grandparents’ tongue strung on genealogical trees, the curses of sins of fathers and wars, cremated kins of history floating in a sea of

It’s travelling to my heart and the diagnosis, it doesn’t look good It’s melting into my veins and the prognosis, it doesn’t look good I crawled my way to Saint

Before ballet, Emily pulls off her shirt and all I see is white brocade, six metal busks – a dainty spine sealing up   her stomach, bulletproof. She presents her