“Evaporations” by Sacha Idell
No matter how many times you’ve done it, it’s never easy.
No matter how many times you’ve done it, it’s never easy.
Matt sneezed all over the pig fetus and then wiped his nose with his glove covered with formaldehyde and who knows what viruses.
Vespers—a chronological designation unfamiliar to a Methodist town like Pacific Grove.
David’s gloved hand slid over the frozen cable railing for balance, and Claire concentrated on her footing.
We huddled around the card table last night, scheming about dusting outta this joint during the morning bus trip.
The moment I stepped out of the shower, my six-year-old appeared at the bathroom door.
When my youngest son is one year old, he poops out a rock.
“Thieves,” Officer Summers said, “are generally lazy.”