Radicle: An Interview with Morgan Talty
I discovered Morgan Talty’s work a few months ago when I saw his name frequently appearing on all the highly anticipated book release lists that come out at the start of each year. I bookmarked some of his stories and read each one gradually, on my dimmed phone screen during …
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Worn
This distressed pair of cut-off shorts once belonged to my best friend’s high- school boyfriend. My favorite tank top? A t-shirt, sleeves sliced away, traded with a stranger one summer, dark of the dive bar hiding whatever we might want hidden. All of our clothes are falling apart. Did you …
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Pietà I: afterbirth
once the gushing stopped I got a good look at him— at the boy I mean—he crowned this morning that bloodless god took blood from me & lord he fumbled blind like a puppy for my milky-eyed nipple teeth ached & we stank in the filth of us our new …
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Brown-Eyed Recluse
Nine months after Isabelle’s husband left, Isabelle lay on her rumpled bedspread, feeling a rattling in her stomach, like a marble inside her. She drew a hand across her belly protectively and tried to think of what might satisfy the feeling; some toast and jam to start, perhaps. She counted …
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Lookout
He took a week to gather his things and move into my body. Not what we’d packed in his coffin. Pickaxe, Maine gold, tourmaline, his dog’s ashes. Only what would not press for space. Breath, curses, dreams. I couldn’t explain. I tried, said I was inhabiting my body as a …
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Different Yellows, Whole and Broken
I recently transcribed one of my husband Séan’s bedtime stories onto a gold nightdress of mine in gold ink. In the daylight, the words shine above the matte gold fabric, but at night the ink disappears, and I fear his story is lost. I search for it, prospecting letters hidden …
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I Hold God at Morning in a Prayer
Dear God, see me walking with my darkness. See me at this corner with rotten pears in my mouth. I have spoken so much about the leaking memories in my bones. I have spoken so much about my worries that I wonder if anyone listens. The tears I know are …
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The Candy Bowl
The room whispered to Simon in its language of creaks and fluttering appliances. The small noises seemed to work in uneven patterns like an overheard conversation. It amused him to give substance to these inanimate dialogues and reminded him of the two little girls from the apartment down the hall …
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Losing Something So Small
cw: pregnancy loss The sky was bright blue that day. There was the kind of lush wind that made you believe you could happily delete all your social media accounts and easily, miraculously, open a goat farm and make a living selling cheese. I rested my head against the window …
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Quiet Corner
1. Once a camel now a dog, my bladder marks my way to the toilet. Parkinson’s paralyzes my friend’s legs and larynx. The film of Alzheimer’s clouds a colleague who, at parties, recited Beowulf. I read about the poet who puts his face between a woman’s thighs, not knowing she’s …
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