Poetry
One.
I.
The woman bent over her Bedazzler,
a seamstress of sorts. She was having
a “blue” day. Her family said
“You have a blue Bedazzler.
Mom tried to cure my flat feet by taping a bean under each tender insole. It was supposed to make me sensitive to the way things feel when I step on them. And it worked — about as well as the artificial poison she painted on my thumb to make me immune to all sorts of bitterness.
Read a prequel to this story at Split Rock Review!