Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Size-Ten Boots
Marco held the boy’s hand and said, “You’re going
to make it, you hear, you’re going back home.” And hearing it I thought of his
scholarship and his big brown eyes. We gave him more morphine. At first Doc
refused, then he gave in. Coy just lay there. If he felt pain, he didn’t show
it. He was one of the boys I wanted to bring home, but now he just lay there.
Just lying there, Mama. Marco held his hand. Doc walked away. When I heard the
chopper, the sound of its rotor pitch thumping over the horizon, I looked back
down at him and he was gone.
I never cried over here. But that time when they
took him away on the litter, I cried.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
The Yin-Yang Market
"That night she woke me before midnight and told me to go with her. Said to me, I want you to see something in person that you won’t ever see again once you leave Vietnam."
Monday, June 3, 2013
The Snake Catcher's Son
Short Story (Mobius The Journal of Social Change)
"Suddenly I felt hollow. I didn’t feel relieved as the
men arrived. She stood up, looked down at me, her plait falling across her
chest. Her face looked shadowy in the twilight, and on the riverbank the last
glimmer of sun glowed golden on the pointed tips of wild banana flowers."
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