In One Breath

A cop informed me that my son was both homosexual and dead. Shot at a bar he had apparently haunted. “Will you accept the body?” the cop asked. A thousand bats’ wings pulsed inside me before I said "No."

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This Dimming Light Between Us

The days, you keep tying them to hooks on the ceiling. Clay ornaments on strings knocking together like wind chimes in a summer storm or the eerie jingle of the Good Humor truck driving by. Somehow both immediate and fleeting. They make the most delicate clamor The noise sends me out of the house late at …