Story Archive: Blood

Blood moon over Gaza City, 2007.
Her blood is in the toilet again. Perhaps she is purging old myths. She needs new stories, new endings in which the phone rings inquisitively, a bright prize buzz, a shiny sound. The blood in the toilet reminds her of her wedding suite, the valentine-shaped tub, the ketchup red gloss of love. Its top, its sides she has chewed for years, after she ate her own heart.

(originally published in Word Riot here.)