Tag Archives: dena rash guzman

An Open Letter to the Baby Deer I Nearly Hit Tonight by Dena Rash Guzman

The mist cold and thick, I had the high beams switched off so the bril­liance wouldn’t chan­nel in and blind me— the switch­back roads wind through the woods past hous­es built by peo­ple with wag­ons drawn along by beasts with four legs just … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Rooster Slaughter Day, essay by Dena Rash Guzman

Part 1 (I Return In Muck Boots) Wait­ing for the slaugh­ter with Ines and her daugh­ter, I have exhaust­ed my Span­ish. They are here to con­duct the killings. We are culling our flock. "Hola. Mi hom­bre es Dena. Soy un Dena. Mi … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Ghost Teeth, by Dena Rash Guzman

My dead and buried speak from the memo­r­i­al cards inside my white Bible. They com­mand through their ghost teeth, “Again.” Grace! There is no again. The leaves turn red and turn gold. I go old, writ­ing soft­ly, pulling down inky words like snuff spit into great-grandma’s tin can. … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Black Coffee, fiction by Dena Rash Guzman

1- If you were sit­ting here with me and I closed my eyes and asked you what col­or they are, you wouldn't know. You don't see me. The oth­er boy who loves me, I don't love him. I don't love … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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