The Mirror of Hate

“What are you?” I get asked this question all the time, wherever I go. “What are you?” I grew so tired of hearing it that I once answered on a whim: “Guess.” The man who had asked me proceeded to list off all the Asian nationalities he knew of: “Chinese, Japanese, Thai, Indonesian, Indian, Mongolian…”…Read more The Mirror of Hate

Sunbathed

The summer sun bathes all in a golden glow, a glow of burnished bronze before scorching. A little Icarus stands before me, sobbing over a red popsicle melting at his feet, feathers once floating in midair— for a moment all things were possible— now white down sticks to puddles of liquid wax. If you've read my…Read more Sunbathed