When I Opened My Mouth to Sing

By: Anna George Dust spattered out and I wondered for a second if I was dead. It would happen here, on a bowing stage where I’d lived, breathed, lost. But the dust floats to the ground. Glittering gowns and sheen tuxes stare up at me and I smile. I laugh. I cry for joy, which I have not held in my weak, porcelain palms in decades. Centuries, if you look at my mother and hers before her. Look at their brown eyes, dark locks, dainty, broken smiles. But I hold…

Read More