the american dream
The fight first arrived in the dawn hour…
War in the remote highlands of east Africa severed me from my
dreams of tomorrow
I flew across the country on an unexpected trip, gasping to escape the orange haze of smog and poverty that
the many faces of quitting
I dream that long after I’m dead, my girls will look back at their teenage years and yearn for
the tragicomedy of human existence
Melpomene
When I was thirteen years old, all the eighth-graders at my school were assigned to read The Song of
when shrimp chips get a flat tire
After her weekly grocery runs, my mom takes a trip to the dingy, too-brightly-lit Korean market fifteen minutes away from
puberty redux
I often forget things I don’t know.
Naked, slimy, and bloody, we’re all born entirely void of the