bathe in the light of the absent moon

you can buy one of him nailed to a piece of wood wearing a loincloth

by Hadassah Shiradski The Toymaker sat in his workshop, gloved hands folded in his lap. His apron was heavy; the iron thimbles on his...

My mother hummed in the kitchen, the smell of liver wafting from the stove.

Daggers, made of glass.