Miss Nomer
June 1, 2026
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Oh, how I nearly felt, in the midst of all that looking. Though, as a matter of fact, where I saw my own reflection may
Live Write or Die!
Live Write or Die!
Oh, how I nearly felt, in the midst of all that looking. Though, as a matter of fact, where I saw my own reflection may
I never tell anyone this. I cried when Leonard Cohen died. I moved here to drink his tap water. I took a job at the
Regina didn’t understand—or, rather, she understood too much. She watched herself from a few feet above the therapy chair, performing a kind of kinetic dissociation.
The infant’s portrait faced Lafayette Gardens, and from my balcony, I could not see any of it, neither the small pink casket encased in glass
George lived in a small cottage house behind the church, and he looked like an exorcist even though he wasn’t one. If exorcism was a
I am not like other girls. Not in the way that rejects femininity, or sameness, or pop culture, or the sisterhood of womanness, but in
There was only one woodcock at Bryant Park today. He or she did not feel like dancing. The bird stared back at the row of
I begin each day with at least two coffees. Or espressos. Sometimes black tea. I often second-guess myself. And third-guess. And fourth-guess.
The sparrow said I have cancer, and now I’m not sure what to do. I know he’s right, I suspected it long before last night
I haven’t told my boss. I haven’t told my coworkers, either. I’m only telling you because somebody needs to know the story — the whole
I was a logical kid when I was five. I believed in science—like solar systems, aquariums, all of it. I knew that sounded somehow funny
It was another Monday. Unlike the lucky ones who got to work from home, Sheila had to commute every Monday for 45 minutes on the
We open on a beautiful lake view somewhere in the rural northeast. The trees are green as can be, the sun is at the midpoint
It is not considered polite to tell someone that they are dying. They may be visibly wasting away, broken, bleeding, redolent of your premonition and
It was a night class during my first year at the State University of New Paltz. I thought “Interpersonal Communications” would be an easy A,
“In Penny Lane there is a barber showing photographs Of every head he’s had the pleasure to know And all the people that come and
His hands grip my cheeks, tugging at the flares of my crow’s feet. He is desperate for eye contact; he begs for it with his
In my opinion there are times when eating in public should be illegal. Eating citrus in any communal place is one of them. The scent
I’m with you in… Rockford, where the sock monkeys sing working songs to no one Rockford, where the steel beams keep climbing and climbing
Romantic disaster is originally a Latin dish, though it has been so universally beloved that it has taken on local flavors wherever it is prepared.
The pill has its own ontology. Its scored bisection is not just a pharmaceutical convenience but a goddamn epistemological event horizon. Fifteen milligrams. Twice daily.
It begins the night before. After dinner—roasted beef, dark from the pot and a jacket potato your mother punctured and filled with butter—you went to
I dated this guy on and off for about a year, about a year ago. Well, to say “date” would be generous. We had a
Poverty is the Fifth Horseman of Apocalypse that the Bible never told us about. We know the other four: Death, Famine, War and Pestilence. If
Babanbaba died when his youngest was only two, and he left behind girls and boys that grew up to become aunts and uncles. His wife
No delayed A train or cancelled C train or suspended F train would delay their meeting. Her sweater was pink. Her cheeks, rosy. She skipped
The first thing I do upon waking is listen for the bell. If it rings once, Cynthia has remembered what hunger feels like and wants
Man walks in the door. Girl is waiting for him at the bar. They kiss quickly on the lips. “How did you get here?”
“Mr. President, you’ve got to help me. I have nothing left,” pled the desperate man. “Rudy, I am sorry, but you did this to yourself.”
Chris, Boris, and Betsy face the audience in a cramped car bouncing along a dark country road. Its beams pick up dark deciduous forests and
The clock is ticking down. The clicking of laptop keys. Whispering when there shouldn’t be. Whispered greetings after a long break. Clack, clack, clack go
I have a talent for lying. People don’t believe me when I say this. It’s the Midwest in me, rooted deep— the tendency for enthusiasm
Cameron finally got home, right before midnight. I looked up from the TV and was glad he was alone. I hated his loser friends. He