houseghost

“Are you still in my house?” he texts, as I stand, doting on my bruised tush in the mirror, the array of marks left by his hand reminiscent of an archipelago. He’s gone, for a while this time. But he keeps giving me keys to the various residences he keeps. “I don’t see how that’s any of […]

off-ramp, one

Momma has company today. Momma has company every day. Five or six men who might as well be the same man for all the difference they make in my life. They’re a bunch of bores, and they make me sick. I sit in the parlor and make puking sounds when they come down the stairs. […]