—THERE’S A LOT I DON’T REMEMBER

 

 

Nail Gun

 

She hangs me in the closet next to Uncle Hal’s ventriloquist partner. It’s nothing but world-less dark inside. A heartbeat throbs through the walls and my toes itch. Every time the dummy’s lips move, I’m the one who speaks, like a nail gun on repeat, or God with no thoughts of his own.

 

 

 

Some Families

 

My sister becomes a shark chasing baby seals around the house. Dad’s in the workroom taxidermizing neighbor kids who got too close. Mom stays busy crocheting porn stars while our hairless dog makes rabid love to the invisible fence—claws, whiskers and teeth popping free like confetti. When our grandparents show up for dinner, we take turns praying but let them ask for forgiveness.