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If his gaze were fingers, I would feel them dancing on my body every time he said I was born to Tango. But I’d rather his gaze were rain. Cool, gentle rain on my forehead, teardrops into the lake of my eyes, sweet melon juice on my parched lips, a tongue-lick of breeze above my… Continue reading Tanguera
She sits at the bus station, still as the moment between two breaths. What do you do with yourself the morning after that single night, she thinks. What do you feel — hope, hate, regret? A crumb of leftover love? Her hands are fragile and spent. He said they were beautiful, her hands. He kissed… Continue reading a.m. story
facing life one coin at a time Find a penny, pick it up, and all day long you’ll have good luck. Aroha whispered the rhyme, glancing left and right, the rhythm powering up her steps. Magpies squawked and flew up as she approached the rugby field. Her sneakers left shiny dents on the grass, the hem… Continue reading Lucky Day
Is it February Seventeenth?, Manu wonders, standing on the kerb of Church street. The flowers in his hand, where did he get them from? Not from the Pharmacy, he hasn’t crossed the street yet. Wild daisies with curly roots and soil stuck to them. From the riverbank then, he thinks, but has no recollection of… Continue reading Flowers for Meredith
Rostislava Pankova-Karadjova 