My father wasn’t really sick. He was only pretending. (Though his need to pretend might be a sickness. At least, that’s what he liked to think.) He was very tired.
My mother was melodramatic. She said my father was melodramatic. I never really believed her.
My sister left home early to marry a man who looked like he knew what he wanted.
I never left home. I make my own bed. I lie in it, as comfortable as anyone ever really is.
Qarrtsiluni offers electronic delivery of original poetry, prose, and art, organized into regular, themed issues, with a new post every weekday. You can find us wherever you go: email and IM, iTunes, feed readers, sometimes even print. Read more...
Congrats to qarrtsiluni authors Sarah Busse and Wendy Vardaman @wendylvardaman for their appointment as poets laureate of Madison, WI. · 3 months ago
Yesterday the last post in our Worship issue; today we begin the Imitation issue. Follow by email & never miss a post. qarrtsiluni.com · 4 months ago
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