A Sail of Ash
Choice
Fetch
Heritage
How the Body Contains Flight
Mizería
My Solitude Is Not as It Once Was
No God for Spilled Ink
Paradise
Reasons to Plant Raspberries
The Best Day of Middle School
The Daughters
The Maiden Speaks from a Willow Root
The Man Approached by Dead Lovers
The Saint
My Solitude Is Not as It Once Was
Lis Sanchez
Auntie Leota rejoices in her Independent Living flat. Here, she says, you’ve got a koi pond beneath the bridge and American Beauties just at the brink of the parking lot and you’ve got a greensward outside the compound. And winning at billiards can’t get any simpler. And it’s never too late to try yukking it up in a foreign language with your friend who comes faithfully on Tuesdays to shampoo you. Plus, keeping a routine untroubles your mind. You’re free to forget to change out of your gray sweats or to leave your choppers in the glass. And visiting so many captivating specialists kills time. When night falls you tidy up, you twist tight the trash bag and crush it under foot until it’s smaller than an old boot, then you store it in the mini fridge, pausing in the light of the half-open door, the way you might wait under a rented tiki torch watching the last guest get out of the pool after a party that felt like a drowning at the end, or just before.