SMILE of course I was, I had always already begun SMILE yes certianly SMILE I laughed breathless I was plead- ing SMILE struck like paralysis SMILE! SMILE! as the darts […]
Christmas: The House Adrift in a wide white ocean of snow. Black December is a ditch winking overhead, but here beneath your parents' roof the piecrust faces are dimpled by forks and the clock faces are round and smooth as buttons.
A poem too can be a garrote. —Anon.
By Joyce Carol Oates Originally published in the New Yorker, August 27, 2012 She’s naked yet wearing shoes. Wants to think nude. And happy in her body. Though it’s a fleshy […]