His coffee table held no books. No coasters or flowers. No remotes for the TV he didn’t have. Only a centered masculine torso, headless and chiseled. A small-sc...
piano string bones
strung joints
unsmoken cigarettes
marionette motherings
this is flora, fauna
us in the quiet
hoarding breath
mourning fingers
carving...
On your drive home from work, through the velvet fog that looms halfway down the moss-laden trees, you pass a doe and wonder: what if? Your palms sweat. You wip...
Savannah Slone is a queer writer from the Pacific Northwest. Her work has appeared in or will soon appear in Ninth Letter, Paper Darts, Maudlin House, The Brooklyn Review, Hobart Pulp, and elsewhere. She is the author of AN EXHALATION OF DEAD THINGS, HEARING THE UNDERWATER, and THIS BODY IS MY OWN. You can find her on twitter @sslonewriter