Byline: Allison Light

Conclusion

Here’s to the rubble: starlight starts to grow quietly. The world comes to chaos so quietly.   Gravity promised to give up for a minute if we told it the things we know, quietly,   so we let foggy breath … Read More

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Genetic Drift

In Arkansas, five thousand blackbirds fall on New Year’s Eve, pepper kernels crunching up pavement. The street-sweeper parks and stares.  Does not know who to call.  The corpses are cleared but they keep missing spots, like when mother paid me … Read More

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Sopor

Last night I caught you sleepwalking again: you stumbled to the hallway and curled your toes against the hardwood, spun like the skipping track of a cross-eyed orbit.  I had forgotten what you look like off-balance. Your nightmares only ring … Read More

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