In The Shade Of My Mother
“I’m fine,” she says in the learned English way though her dry skin is scaly, her voice as rasping as bark. When I hug her close, I feel she might break. Her bones are twig-brittle, bare of the plumpness of blossom. “And you?” she asks. “All good,” I reply, and we let both our lies … Continue reading In The Shade Of My Mother