Pray make me as commanding—in a yolk-gold gown cinched at the waist, turbaned hat, cigar mouthed like Che Guevara. Ochún, Santera de Los Rios—
With bare hands and green thumbs, the wet earth succulent and breakable making the palms soft, making it transparent—No, opaque, a quality seen through,
Review by Melissa Atkinson Mercer Jessica Walsh’s How to Break My Neck illuminates a world where “sharks were not ill-willed/not at first”, where chairs