Mark Wunderlich

That the smell of cows drifting in the open window is indeed that of a living beast. That I too am a living beast. That the body I possess is inhabited only by me. That my body is neither at rest nor occupied by dramatic motion. That I am, by my best account, fully alive. That ...

In the polaroid in a drawer of the housethe other relatives picked over, I’m the blur in the background, mop of silvery hair. The rasp of the ash pan when you empty the stoveis a bit like my voice, stuck in the chimney like a nest. You won’t have to know how I ...