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Domestic Violence
B I R D
On a hot summer day when my brother was eight months old, my father carried him to the top step of the back porch, lifted him over his head, and tossed him into the weeds.
February 1996Standing Tall
A first-time voter, a calm mother, a girl who wouldn’t be bullied
June 1995On Earth As It Is In Heaven
I knew I was in trouble. It was the way Mama looked at me from across the dining-room table, like I had wandered off and left her, even though I was sitting right there.
March 1995The Other Side Of St. Francis
His father was rotting from the inside out, and much of their visits consisted of Silas sitting and waiting in the living room, trying not to listen to the sounds coming from the bathroom.
September 1994The Forgotten Children
When I pushed away the cot and lifted the trapdoor, his eyes glinted for a moment like an animal’s in the beam of Mother’s flashlight. Biscuit crumbs clung to his mouth, and around his shoulders was the old blanket he’d secreted away. I reached down to help him up, but he shrank from me, his eyes filled with hatred.
June 1994Tea For Two
Since Karen left me, my evenings are quiet and predictable. No longer does she greet me the moment I open the front door with her wiry silence, unnerving as eye contact with a tiger pacing its cage.
February 1994The Necessary Plane
Cherokee had worried that Johnny’s top hat might attract terrorists, but they were lucky. He rode out of Lima with money in his pockets. He even gave Cherokee a fifty to hide in her bra.
January 1994
