By Skye Wilson I want to break his bones for what he did. No metaphors, just snap against my skin; pain blooming in his eyes like burns on flesh. I’ll scorch all of the skin he touched me with. I want to grow to twice my usual size, drink in the pain and terror in [...]
By Caroline Bock Dedicated to Grace Cavalieri Nana makes you learn needle and thread and you stick your fingers—and blood—“Don’t bleed on the cloth,” she says. In your hands is a scrap, an addition to the family’s patchwork quilt. “Stitch. Even stitches,” she insists. A bulb of red appears as you pull the needle through [...]
