joanna's Page

six paces. the length of the rope left me to hang the remains of my humanity, yellowed cinderblock walls canvas for narration of unhappy endings. inset fluorescence glared down; i glowered up, voiceless fists on concrete bars in subtly shouldered ...

November was hard that year in Georgia, painted white fences peeling under the force of an unseasonable wind. Outside the gates thousands of hands, pale in the cold, grasped rude wooden crosses like talismans to ward off the weather. Bareheaded in...