Unspeakable
The heart won’t make its point. Why not let you go out into the sun where blossoms burst and rush like oxycontin? The chickadee’s precision in the pear chastises my ear Continue reading
Author Archives: Nick Triolo
Compassion Comes Late
With cockroaches, disgust does not become revenge. It’s terror hammered like an onion. And when a veteran roach, steeped (like a tea bag) in survival’s dexterity, shapeshifts: from under the sole Continue reading
Bright Passage
Hospitals are well lit. Uncomfortably well lit. Flooded with sallow, merciless light: unnatural, fluorescent. Recessed troffers in the ceiling, cradling thick bars of sizzling white. They are places where light feels Continue reading
I Prefer Humans
“YOU WANT TO OPT OUT?” asked the TSA agent without looking up. “Yes, I want to opt out,” I replied, quickly adopting her language. I liked the way she put it. “Okaay,” Continue reading
Where There Is No Hospital
IN SIERRA LEONE we always had a doctor when we needed one, and that doctor was my father. When I was a baby, a measles outbreak in the country caused scores Continue reading