Opal Gayle

by Opal Gayle I have not been home in twenty-three years. So, I’ve forgotten how to get to Red Grung, where the guava trees, pregnant with fruit, would droop towards earth. And where the pond fills up with water during heavy floods, and children are warned to stay away lest the giant whirl in the […]

By Opal Gayle My father did not know how to read so he traveled the world with his ears, nose, and bones. His bones, he said, told him when it was going to rain. His nose told him what was in the tiny phials that he bought for his clandestine healing missions. And, at his