by Melissa Stein | Jun 4, 2018
Quarry Floating dock and the sun and a lady with her infant and a black dog swimming with a branch and a boy I loved all silken and mocking me from his heavy lashes surprised with bright drops of water. He was kind but he had this weakness. We swam together...
by Melissa Stein | Jun 1, 2014
Mink stoles and sparkling eyes—sparkling, really—and hair curled to nearly edible precision, and the pale satin taut across the bust and the compact waist, from which flared a modest skirt, with a brooch somewhere, and a flower, and the dapper companion in natty suit...
by Melissa Stein | Apr 23, 2014
Give Thanks Cheerios & diapers: she scrapes the crust of dried peas from roughed-up Tupperware, eyes fixed on the nestless, squirrelless pines blocking the kitchenette window: can’t tell plane-drone from semi-drone from generator-drone, all engines...
