by Martha Silano | Apr 13, 2020
Through the bougainvillea and clematis arch, past the placards for Screw Palm, Gru-Gru, Powder Puff, blocking the sun from our eyes to get a better look at a maroon bloom dangling beneath a dozen green bananas, I’m immortal, especially when I enter the...
by Martha Silano | Sep 1, 2016
the cubicle where we daily toil, the demoniac cackling erupting from the empty spaces down the hall, size of an in-box crammed with memos and motions, size of the St. Louis Arch, gateway to the West but also a gateway to hell. Hail the size of any...
by Martha Silano | Apr 5, 2013
He comes from many houses. The first was his: the house where things fall apart. The plastic countertops peeled back in sheets. Cabinet faces hung loosely on hinges then fell off completely, half empty cupboards of rotten food, mouse droppings, and moldy contact...
