That Question in Your Throat

I am thinking about the future you invented at the bottom of your coffee cup. I am thinking about the dreams given to you by the mountain slavs. I am thinking about the language you created to speak your secrets. I am thinking about the dark stone on the ocean floor burrowing towards the light. …

The Light Under the Door

They are in light. I am in darkness. I see the thin strip of light under the door. It is not enough. I am new to this world. I do not know there is a tomorrow. I only know they have cast me away. I cry for them to come but they don’t come. I …

Dream Macaroni

It seems as though the recipe is simple. When you enter it you’ll be surprised; the macaroni is a part of you trying to communicate with water. You were not really listening at cookery school; to make a smooth sauce you have to keep stirring time. You have to dream like a pro. It’s important …

The Goose Girl

She is returning home, face proud with blood, eyes no longer the same. The geese are my brothers, she says. This was once my own goose foot, too tender to walk on sharp stone. After digging in the soil, it is light as it rests in her palm. She will carry it with her, always. …

Funeral Food

I like to go round to someone’s house when there’s a funeral going on and feed myself and my family with tablespoons of honey and peeled cooked chestnuts. It is both comforting and sustaining to taste the golden centred discs infused with cinnamon sticks, molasses, star anise, and bay. There’s something hopeful and cheering about the …

That Night With Her

When she entered the chamber, her feet hardly touched the ground, so light she was, like a marigold petal, carried on cool currents of air. And I, who lay trapped in the dark, could sense her presence, felt the tremor of sobs as they shook my mattressed coffin— I, who should feel nothing. There, in …

To Be Devoured

The cool white cloth wrapped itself around me. Mother made it with her own hands just like she made me. She wrapped the girl in red, but the girl protested, stamped her foot, face like a corkscrew. I laughed to myself, Don’t look so pretty now, do you? She wore the cape in the end, …