When my mother met my father in 1992 in Chicago, she was 17 and my father was 20. My mother was a senior in high school, and my father out of school and working, already a supervisor at the Luster … [Read more...]
Three poems by Taylor Byas
Disciplinarian I. In the closet, racked in line for picking, belts molder and shed in leather scabs; in hand, they crack like reins. On their legs and backs, the brand of a coachman shows … [Read more...]
