It’s three in the morning, the orange sulfur lamps bleach the black sky, and for a moment I think it’s the sun rising over the skyline, but then the darkness recedes back into my vision. It’s always night here; this place never sleeps . . .
I looked out my apartment window through the Venetian blinds down at a street full of shadows . . .
Featured: Black Interest
- The Book of Harlan
- eel on reef
- Black Music
- The Sexy Part of the Bible
- Iron Balloons: Hit Fiction From Jamaica’s Calabash Writer’s Workshop
- Pressure Makes Diamonds: Becoming the Woman I Pretended to Be
- Tales of the Out & the Gone
- The Roving Tree
- So Much Things to Say: 100 Poets from the First Ten Years of the Calabash International Literary Festival