“Her mother held a wet cloth to her brow for fifteen months while bees died in the space between the window and screen.” — Tina May Hall Copy Share Image
“He gives her a lump of grief that has hardened at the bottom of the canvas pocket at his waist. He gives her a… — Tina May Hall Copy Share Image
“I sang colors to counteract the onset of gray winter. Cadmium yellow, brown madder, cerulean blue, I whispered, invoking pause.” — Tina May Hall Copy Share Image
“Only son screams for his bottle. Mother says, "He has such strong lungs. Perhaps he will be a soldier” — Tina May Hall Copy Share Image
“Second daughter walks outside where everything smells like a ghost. She leaves without her red cloak, without her father's ax, without breadcrumbs for the… — Tina May Hall Copy Share Image
“We love our secrets; anything hidden is so dear to us, we who are always on display” — Tina May Hall Copy Share Image
“Sometimes a child is waiting for her turn on the swingset when everything is shadow.” — Tina May Hall Copy Share Image
“First Daughter throws her wool mitten into the fireplace to see the yellow smoke. She loves things for the colors they burn” — Tina May Hall Copy Share Image
“We will not stick our heads in ovens. We will not throw ourselves from bridges, nor weight our pockets, nor disturb our veins.” — Tina May Hall Copy Share Image
“I wanted to tell him I loved him and I couldn't remember how we met. He had things he wanted to tell me too;… — Tina May Hall Copy Share Image
