House Was a Fist
A house birthed me and will likely be the death of me.
Jeneé Skinner has a degree in Creative Writing and studied Renaissance Literature at the University of Oxford. Her work has appeared in Passages North, Roxane Gay’s The Audacity, TriQuarterly, and elsewhere. She has received fellowships from Tin House Summer Workshop and Kimbilio Writers Retreat. Currently, she is the Writing in Color Book Project Fellow for Lighthouse Writers Workshop. Her work has been nominated for Best Microfiction 2020. In Fall 2021, she will begin her MFA at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. You can follow her on Twitter @SkinnerJenee.
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More in this series
Residents of the Air
Those poor people, they thought. What’s wrong with them that their houses don’t rise, too?
Men Who Sing the Music of the Night
When it was over, Myrrh clapped as much for their own feat of love as for their partner’s artistic accomplishment. They were proud and pleased—and then came the man who sang “The Music of the Night.”
Con Suerte He Will Sleep Another Hour
Her mother had never curved a cool hand around Marilinda’s cheek and promised, Mijita, your life will be swollen with love.