Flash Frog

My father is packing his suitcase. There are six pairs of underwear mother has whitened to a crisp. He packs a rabbit foot my little sister Rajna had given to him on his birthday. He neatly adds a Penthouse magazine. He has also packed his penis. This, however, he will take as carry-on baggage. It fits well within the limits of travel but not as far a...

The government sent a man to count the dead in Iztapalapa—the murder capital of Mexico. He wore clean shoes, so everyone knew he wouldn’t stay long.

By noon the heat had softened his clipboard. The ink bled slightly, as if the numbers were melting. A siren passed and kept passing, looping the block without resolving into direction. He paused, unsure whether to mark ...

When the water comes, it seeps through the windows. Dad says that’s because the windows are wood and rotten, just like Mom’s teeth, just like her breath that always smells like pickle juice and Mom hollers that if Dad keeps insulting her, she’ll turn him into liquid.

The pickle juice is for Mom’s leg cramps. She stands all day at a cash register ringing in people’s ...

At the playground, a five-year-old boy levels an invisible rifle at my nursing baby. He’s standing on a rope bridge between the slide and the monkey bars, and he sights like we are a doe and her fawn. Dizzy with rage, I stand up and Anna flails. I fumble to cover my bare nipple. On the bridge, the boy squints and re-aims, his invisible rifle pointing now at the back of Anna’s...