By Jackleen Holton Hookway This world is just a little place, just the red in the sky, before the sun rises, so let us keep fast hold of hands, that when the birds begin, none of us be missing. –Emily Dickinson A sapling shakes, and a gust of new red-crested finches are launched into a sky [...]
By Jackleen Holton Hookway wears knifepoint stilettos that she fashioned from the skin of water moccasins that slide underneath the dark slip of brackish floodwater when she takes them off and wades in up to her neck as the twin snakes slither ahead guiding her through a maze of underwater suburbs where she shatters windows [...]
