A Murderer Takes a Stroll on the Black Sand Beach
Flash fiction by Gessy Alvarez A child runs. Charging forward. Laughing, holding a red ball, running as if she’s committed a theft. Pigeons fly out of…
Keep readingSelected Works
Longevity
fragments in waiting by Gessy Alvarez The orchids fell off the stem after hanging on for three months. Violet petals browned and shriveled leaving two tall stems bereft. Succulent leaves lay open at the base, waiting or rejoicing. Beaded water absorbed by the green…
Keep readingQuiescence
I birthed no humans I faked my virtue – I feared the world I kissed forked tongues
Keep readingMid-Life February
The rain cools the unseasonably hot February day. A once divine youth faces a mid-life spectacle of indecisions.
Keep readingThe Haneke Paradox
A more revered, more reviled goal is to deprogram prevent dissociating
Keep readingLeatherdale, 4/22/22
“I lived in leather.” leather shirts / intrigue leather pants / unsettled leather jackets / inspired rumors
Keep readingOn A Summer Day
Sharing this beach with many humans every single one thinking living playing sinking levitating under the sun
Keep readingThe Whitney Museum, 1997
Ekphrastic Poem for Jay Defeo If you have formed a Circle go into it, go into it yourself and see how you would do.- William Blake In a rented studio on Fillmore Streetshe worked on her obsessioncolossal circleslike the ones she used to draw…
Keep readingDrink Up
Flash Fiction They drank green cocktails with cucumber slices, ate hotdogs on buttered buns, and listened to an a cappella version of “Lilac Wine” sung by a young man with pumpkin orange hair. “Drink up, sweets,” Ramona said. She punched her boyfriend’s shoulder. His bald…
Keep readingGuardian Angel
[flash fiction] We fell asleep on the couch, alcohol on our breaths. Mambo and cha-cha-cha beats in our knees. Damn two-dollar high-heels left welts on our feet, but we danced all night with different brilliantine men: gold teeth, mustaches, pinky rings that looked too…
Keep readingLast Kingdom in Astoria
Helena, you used to call me your King. Now your ashes are in an urn that sits in a niche at Calvary. Mariss calls me the king like she feels nothing for her father like I’m a big joke to her. And at sixteen, she acts like I…
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