Author: Kathleen McGookey

Mother  yanked her out.  I  filled my watering can with  milk. In  the  hollow,  we  could   barely  see my  bedroom’s  yellow eye.   I  patted  dirt  over  her  bloody  roots and stood her up again.  When I stroked her cheek, she turned toward me and opened  her  mouth.  And when she sang,  she  sang…