Kyoko Uchida

I want to ask you: in those classrooms still new to you, do they sit waiting, their hands folded clean, like rows of faceless daughters? In my dream my nails are trimmed and I hold the pen correctly. There are hundreds of us, all anxious for equations, answers to questions we do not know to […]

Gravity, too, grows thick with snow, accumulates inch by inch, but the sensation is of flying. I am moving over white space as it takes itself up, the storm lifting east and fast about my ankles, in my pockets where my hands are tucked with change. I’m running out of milk, out of time in […]