It’s been a busy semester of conferences and readings, so I’m really late on this, but big thanks to the editors of EPOCH for publishing my story, “Wolf Coat Mine,” in their most recent issue.
Here’s a sample:
My man looks afraid, wants assurance that everything is fine, but all I can think about is my coat. I shove my arms in the sleeves. Inside it is wet and hot and red, like bloody velvet. I drop to my knees and pull it over my back, over my head, looking out through its eyes. My sister leaps on my back, and I come up hard, throwing her onto the floor and barking so hard that flecks of drool run down my fangs.
My sister rolls on her belly in front of me, remembering who I am. My mother and father clean my ears with their tongues. The rest of my siblings stay back, nervous. I am bigger and longer-toothed than they, and they haven’t been around me for a long time. I can hear their heartbeats, smell their individual breaths. I am my wolf coat, and my wolf coat is mine.