New Year’s Dayand I will start afreshas caterpillars are molting. I will establish order in my sock and underwear drawersand the drawer of scrambled kitchen utensils. And it would not be the New Yearif I didn’t clean the refrigerator,pitch the stuff we’ve no ideahow or when it got there. And all the while, caterpillars are moltingas I […]
Deliverance By Margaret Van Every Foot and fist embossed on the belly, time came when the womb had had its fill of you, your punch and kick. The membrane that once swaddled you so sweetly, now a shrink-wrapped garment was, binding foot against face. Coiled homunculus ached to unfold like buds, leaves, and wings. But
Refugees By Margaret Van Every All it took were two: the primordial man and woman were the first to be expelled. The soil, the orchard, the pile of leaves on which they dreamed, the beasts that they had named—the sum of the familiar they thought was theirs. A sword at the back corrected
