On Valentine’s Day, Milo strings a horse-shaped piñata from the ceiling light in our living room, and I walk by twice before noticing it swaying there. The light is off and the horse is dark, but I am not unobservant. Part of me accepts a horse swinging in my periphery. Milo makes up a real reason for me to go back down the hall and, when I look for the space heater, I find the horse hanging. He dangles from a yellow jump rope, and I am so happy to see him in my house. Milo hands me the stick. “You need,” he says, “to kill a horse.”
Contributors
Abd al-Hakim Qasim [ + ][ – ]
Loading . . .
Peter Quartermain [ + ][ – ]
Loading . . .
George Quasha [ + ][ – ]
Loading . . .
The Brothers Quay [ + ][ – ]
Loading . . .
The Quay Brothers [ + ][ – ]
Loading . . .
Margaret Queeney [ + ][ – ]
Loading . . .
Alice Quinn [ + ][ – ]
Loading . . .