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Mothersexpand_more“Please, please, please,” she begged the class. “Please don’t do it.”
The problem with my mother is that she thinks everyone a fool.
do you asks pretty sue know what I love what pretty please tell us
To resist him, I danced how he wanted, but made a mockery of it.
I hear her voice in the shivering tambourines of leaves.
I know you want your mother’s dial tone like you want a KFC box.
Please, Theresa thought, as a tenderness surged within herself.
I wouldn’t sleep a second, knowing the catastrophe I’d set in motion.
Barbie Chang asks why the evil one always has black hair.
I hate it here, but I’ll make the best of it, because that’s what mothers do.
The man protested, I didn’t do anything. He needed the job. I only kissed her.
We couldn’t tell which of us was a girl or a boy we gorged on dirt.
I worry that I will be kidnapped by my cab driver and driven to an ATM.
Writing is a subversive activity that exempts you from the rules.
Abandon the idea that arts and sciences are mutually exclusive.
Truths don’t eclipse each other—they only complicate each other.
My father stood up, unable to choose which one of us to kill first.
If they don’t give you a seat at the table, bring a folding chair.
In your postpartum state, your best hope is to bluff your way through.
“Bo? I need you to be a big boy now,” she said. “Are you ready?"
I asked for water, and he shot me a look of henpecked resentment.
When we’re all together like this it feels like hope is a possibility.
On her wedding day Ellen accidently locked herself inside the pantry.
A boy who makes dinosaurs from blue clay, each one with three hearts.
I saw my mother’s face turn dark like the winter sky before a storm.
The story doesn’t begin until the van breaks down, I always say.
I had never thought of bed before as anything but an innocent place.
Byron’s mother read things to him: Language is fun. Play. Let’s play.
I returned to Vietnam with a tape recorder to collect ca dao.
The exurban dream of it all, to enter is to have the ability to exit.
