Review by Donna Vorreyer Tara Skurtu’s The Amoeba Game is a collection about moments and memory and how they collide, mutate and transform. An
Mama takes a breath for the doctor’s stethoscope pressing against her chest, a cold kiss moonshot point blank range. “Gentle now,” the doctor urges
Your body compels my gazing— droplets on tail, wing, and crown are daffodil, redcurrant, moon-gray light. Museums of you descend and shadow the ground,
There are so many questions the rain in a city will turn into answers. Will there be flooding becomes: Of course. Why didn’t he