THE CHAIR

By Kim Dallesandro
Photo By Max Reeves

“She liked to trace the varicose veins on her legs with her fingers while she stared out the window in the late afternoon. They were like mazes, or intricate spider webs; she tried to find a beginning point and an end making it a game but never succeeding in finding a clear path to the end and it always surprised her…

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THE BURNING PAIN

By Kim Dallesandro

I always wear Frank’s old flannel shirt when I go out after dark. Frank being my biological father, the asshole, the bank robber, the one that made mom spit on the ground every time she said his name, that Frank. The shirt is old and worn, with a broken top button and a blood stain that won’t ever come out…

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RENUNCIATION (EXCERPT)

By Kim Dallesandro

The Westinghouse Building stands in the middle of broken dreams. Six floors high, gutted, engineered, plotted and planned into living spaces where we look outside and watch the despair. My windows face a sweatshop and each day I watch the Hispanic workers lose a little more hope with each garment…

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