It was the start of the rainy season. Dark clouds billowed over the setting sun, leaving the air ripe with a feeling of dread.
The moon rose this night as it had done in the days, months, and years before, as it would tomorrow and the night after that if life remained, but this night was different.
Is years I waiting for God to smile on me. And is years the devil pissing on me. Sometimes I think I is the orphan child of the both a them.
Q: [tapping the photograph] Where’s the little girl? Where’s Anisa Quashie?
A: We do not know Anisa Quashie.
When I was younger, visiting my aunt’s house was an adventure.
Miss Meela wailed underneath her broad-brimmed hat as the pallbearers lowered the casket, carrying her young kin.
I have a serious bathroom phobia, and when I say this I mean that there is actually nothing wrong with me at all.
Now Available: Hadriana In All My Dreams, by René Depestre.