THE PHOTOGRAPH

She stares at the photograph yellowed with age. The precious moment stood still with only a click. Her mother’s words “your Daddy’s gone to heaven” ring in her ear. “Your Daddy wouldn’t want to see his little girl cry”; therefore, she never did. Her secure, innocent life changed forever. She attempts to commit to memory…

Money for the Dead

And they collapse into themselves, ten wrinkled women, their curled salt and pepper hair pinned under black kerchiefs. Faded floral blouses and black trousers. Gnarled hands reach for gold and silver paper in a heap around a red candle. Jook boils on the stove and folded money burns a white, wispy river, gently swaying on…

San Francisco

I’ve hidden love notes for you all over the city. Folded pieces of paper under bus seats and stapled to power lines. At the mall, 15 minutes away from your house, I dug my nail into an armrest of a couch I was sitting on, so you could touch the raised line across the smooth…

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