"Nipples are worrying; so much so that,..."

"dad says that they have to be a boy, their neck thick like corded rope, but mom combs their hair every night, braids in whispers and whimpers of hope."

"In the springs of my childhood, my mother and I cleared death from our front yard."

"The families on my street painted their houses strawberry, blueberry, Key lime, mango, one after the other like a roll of Lifesavers."