“Imagine a scene in which Schrödinger cracks three eggs into a glass bowl, one after the other, and each egg has a yolk the color of the sun except for the last which is a bright red, so bright it is filled with blood, and when the egg yolk strikes its yellow brethren, I begin shrieking in terror off-screen. Imagine a scene where I lie face-down in an overflowing bathtub and as my body sinks beneath the roiling water, waves slosh over the porcelain sides and flood the floor, dripping beneath the tiles and out of the slats providing solid foundation beneath.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Yesterday, I went into NYC to give a reading at the closing of the “Post Partum Party” exhibition at the Rhombus Space art gallery in Brooklyn. The poets Nicole Callihan, Caitlin McDonnell, and Carley Moore read their work, and then I read two stories from Wrapped in Red. It was an honor to be part of the “Post Partum Party” exhibition and to read my work in the company of so many great writers.