by Rachel Tanner Sunday is the lord’s day and the lordis my bed. I stay here, wrapmyself up, stretch my limbs outlike a starfish. There is no one else hereto take up room that is rightfully mine.Mine mine mine mine mine. My bed is a table. It’s a desk. It hascrumbs in it from who-knows-whenand I don’t give a fuck. I Read More
Tag: refuge
Refuge
by Jack Somers Dennis left on a Saturday morning. He called Mom a miserable bitch, emptied his drawer in the bedroom, and thundered out the front door. I was relieved. Of all the boyfriends she had brought home over the years, I liked Dennis the least. He took money out of my piggy bank to buy booze and smacked me Read More