BY MATTHEW SIMMONS My dad is standing in front of a line of life-sized, clay copies of my dear, dead mother. They are in the garage, standing at something like parade rest, tipped back on their ankles, stiff bodies against the wall. I’m hidden outside the door, and he’s choosing which one he is going … Continue reading SAXOPHONE LUNG EXPLODES (an excerpt)

EXPOSURE (an excerpt)

BY JACOB M. APPEL Wednesdays and Saturdays are my days off at the pharmacy, but Saturdays my wife is off too, so I do my flashing on Wednesday afternoons. In the mornings, I have my weekly rap session with Dr. Quince-Martin. She rents space on a corridor down by the waterfront—opposite a urologist named Littlecock—and, … Continue reading EXPOSURE (an excerpt)