Just as Steadroy finish mek up he bed under de Big Head, smadee call he name . . .
Tag: Duppy Thursday
Adela sits at her desk in the Kingston parliament building, which looks like a Moorish palace. . .
I held a glass of champagne in my hand and stood alone under the dark night sky. . .
It used to be so. Playing dead to catch Corbeau alive. Every day started with the Our Father.
“I’m sorry.” It was a simple statement, filled with honesty and sadness, but truth was evident in the man’s voice . . .
Tina knew she shouldn’t have gone to that party with Robert . . .
I gave you my own name, and we shared it for fourteen days . . .
The Mayfair was over, the lights turned off, the bran tub emptied, the decorations taken down and locked in cupboards safely. The bouncy castle stood still, awaiting the workmen who would remove it tomorrow. The gates to the schoolyard were shut, and the sentry assumed duty. No one saw the boy in black . . .
Featured: Black Interest
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- Kingston Noir (Jamaica)
- New-Generation African Poets: A Chapbook Box Set (Tano)
- The Warmest December
- Lost Canyon
- Black Music
- Tales of the Out & the Gone
- Bedrock Faith
- On the Way Back
- Bronx Biannual: The Literary Journal of Urbane Urban Literature
- Bronx Biannual Issue No. 2: The Literary Journal of Urbane Urban Literature