From Issue 14: Housemate

Hilary Sallick Last night as I sat at the kitchen table at work on my autobiography      I glanced up from the chore of ordering clauses of self            and saw across the distance of the room on the worn wood floor at the foot of the stairs           an insect       watery creature                 scurrying toward clutter of shoes and boots under the bench an inches-long centipede I could recognize even at a distance       casting its shadow under…

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