Crow and his sisters began to argue about the profundity of the canal that ran through their neighborhood. His youngest sister said it was dangerous, while Crow found it beautiful. He liked that it reminded him of how long their lives were. On bright winter mornings, he skimmed the canal’s waters and pecked at the debris. His favorite article was a letter he couldn’t understand then, but the day before he died, he recalled the dank growth of the words, “I can’t.” She said, “I just can’t.”
Monique Quintana is a Xicana from Fresno, CA, and the author of Cenote City (Clash Books, 2019). Her work has appeared in Maudlin House, Wildness, Lost Balloon, The Acentos Review, and other publications. She has been supported by Yaddo, the Sundress Academy for the Arts, the Kimmel Harding Nelson Center, and the Community of Writers. You can find her at moniquequintana.com. Instagram and Twitter: @quintanagothic
[…] Ultrasound Pics” in OyeDrum. Published the micro stories “drift locket” in Scavengers Lit; “Boat Locket” in The Coalition; and “Pear Locket” in Where the Meadows Reside. Published the flash piece […]