by Jess Earl Mama told me that thunder is just the sound of angels bowling. The angel outside my window doesn’t have hands but maybe it just can’t bowl, like how Katie can’t eat peanut butter. The angel doesn’t look like the ones in Mama’s paintings; it looks like a…
by Anne Johnston October in Georgia is a mosaic of orange, green, yellow, brown, red—of ash, birch, gum, oak, and evergreen trees that look down like elders onto the khaki pants, pastel prints, boat shoes, bourbon, and biscuits on the earth below. The elder trees nod and wave as the…