Amy Slanger

My soul has the whole day to roam around like dead body was just buried and I don’t know where is home.

"Heavy visceral metaphors: vulture, carcass, and grief wearing the author’s face."

It was the first time I was traveling abroad. I had recently gotten married, and my husband had gone ahead.

"8"

How the future interrupts, and what we do in the pause

"The 'streetlights like an accusing eye' and the 'Jungian prize fish' resonate."

On how trauma is retold until it becomes prophecy, and why survival has always needed stories.

"Vivid: 'thirst so sharp it split the tongue' and 'mud and waiting'."

Insomnia doesn’t let me forget that every part of a man is both invitation and denial.

"Unfinished houses with 'concrete rods stabbing upward' is a startling, gritty metaphor."

A guided tour through the exhibits that men were never allowed to feel.

"Hyper-specific: 'fossils found in fathers’ shoulders, preserved in pride and nicotine.'"

A meditation on loss, matter, and the divine recycling of everything

"Concrete opening: "yellow wallet still breathing," shoes "dissolving slowly into earth.""

A self-help guide for those who like their despair well-lit.

"Sensory anchors: 'salt rings' on high-thread-count sheets and 'chamomile tastes like hot sadness'."

A survival manual for women who’ve done their time in emotional rehab.

"Vivid: 'stray dogs who survive monsoons' and 'mercy can look like leaving'."

Learning how to dissolve without disappearing.

"Surprising imagery: 'shadow is smallest when the sun is right above'."