A man builds a son made of bone and wire.  All night he labors and by morning, the boy breathes and moves.  Almost human, but not quite. In the quiet, he keeps shifting into shadows. The rough material of his spine dissolving into dust.  Doctors come and bring more doctors. Women bring casseroles and cakes.  The boy waits in the shed to be undone by nightfall. The mother locks herself in her bedroom and cries.  The gate falls from its hinges and the crops fall to ruin. 

*

Over the years, the house begins to shed unnecessary things.  Doorknobs and smoke detectors. Alarm clocks and my mother's curling iron. You'd be hard pressed to find a spatula. the kitchen drawers filled with broken things we could not save.  The col...

Please subscribe to keep reading.