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Eliza Park, New Orleans, 1838 I unlace my shift, stand at the basin, breasts cold against the porcelain bowl. My hands are numb, my breath makes ghosts in the room. I loosen my braids, lift a [...]

Eliza Park, New Orleans, 1838 He dresses me, buries his face in my hair. I grab his arm, reach for my shawl, pull him out to the courtyard. In the oil lamp’s flickering rim, I watch the [...]

Here in the mist our fingerprints Drift like whorls on water. I study my thumbs. Barren islands. They drown what dares come ashore. The sea takes a deep breath. Husks rustle under the swells. I [...]

Dede Wilson is a native of Louisiana who now lives in Charlotte, NC. She is a former journalist with the Dallas Times-Herald and has published her poems in scores of literary journals, including [...]

     Circle my smoldering bones, wrist-hinge and shin. Shine your false light, searching for what I am not.      And when you stagger upon my lone gold ring, you will be wedded to absence. I am a [...]