Abstract
Those two pit bulls playing out on the street belong to that pink house right across from mine. A mother, son and daughter live there, too, more ink on their six fat arms than the bumper Sunday paper. I don't want to think about what they might have put over the rest of themselves. No, I'm not judging people by their cover. I got a tattoo, my very own constellation of stars. The most stars that could fit onto the back of my little neck. I always was skinny. Bones like a fish, some men said. Bones, my first husband said, that he could pick from between his teeth. I never did feel there was enough of me, especially not after all he took out of me.
Recommended Citation
Rohan, Ethel
(2012)
"Dark Stars,"
Booth: Vol. 4
:
Iss.
4
, Article 3.
Retrieved from:
https://digitalcommons.butler.edu/booth/vol4/iss4/3