Tina knew she shouldn’t have gone to that party with Robert . . .
My son saw women peel their skin from their bones and burn their bodies out like cane fire before bed . . .
Gus sipped lemongrass tea from a foam cup. It was still dark. His secondhand truck idled outside the market as four men clambered into its tray. This was where he picked up workers for the day—mostly men who came to the island at night in quiet boats. The men clutched grease-stained paper bags and chattered loudly between bites of johnnycakes and various patties. Four men got into the truck’s tray. Gus was expecting five . . .
Featured: Black Interest
- The Game Don’t Change
- The Plot Against Hip Hop
- Scars of the Soul Are Why Kids Wear Bandages When They Don’t Have Bruises
- Haiti Noir 2: The Classics
- Song for Night
- So Much Things to Say: 100 Poets from the First Ten Years of the Calabash International Literary Festival
- New Worlds, Old Ways: Speculative Tales from the Caribbean
- eel on reef
- The Spring Thrills Digit
- Trinidad Noir