There was a young couple eating on the floor of a dead shipmaster. . .
Dorothy stumbled blindly into the lesbian bar as the last few off-season tourists perambulated the crooked streets, the evening sky a dull antimony pink behind the smoke-blackened canyon of the Cowgate, her hands wet and the bloody knife still in her handbag . . .
Even though it was June, the entire island was still engulfed in a soft gray mist like a widow’s mane, and I felt it caress my face with curiously skeletal fingers as I stepped gingerly down the shaky gangway they provided for foot pedestrians . . .
Featured: Black Interest
- Bedrock Faith
- So Much Things to Say: 100 Poets from the First Ten Years of the Calabash International Literary Festival
- The Roving Tree
- What Is Hip-Hop?
- Eight New-Generation African Poets: A Chapbook Box Set
- Even in Paradise
- The Baker’s Son: My Life in Business
- Lagos Noir (Nigeria)