Margaret Dornaus

Throwback

This is my sister’s story. My sister, who carries the genes of our mother’s grandmothers —Miriam and Polly and Mary—in her face, in her arms, legs, feet, hands. My sister, whose skin is red, like a sunset that bleeds into the Oklahoma sky on summer nights. My sister, who glows with the light of a thousand fireflies.

shadowland
the name mother calls out
from her deathbed