By E.M. Tran
My father moans in his sleep, says things in his mother tongue, goldfish mouth agape as he speaks to the absence where his friends used to be, and I, an American child, sit at the door in the dark listening for some hint of who he was.
E. M. Tran lives, writes, and teaches in New Orleans, LA, and has work in such places as Prairie Schooner, Little Fiction, and Joyland Magazine.
Art by Jeff Kallet.
Comments