jalina mhyana

    Nonfiction

    Grindstone & Fog

    Jalina Mhyana·
    I could be nude beneath the fog’s fleece. I’m invisible as God, who wraps his modest shawl around Scarborough. The Yorkshire coast is blind. The ships are blind; they can’t see their own masts. Their bones might soon wash up in a spray of spume...
    Nonfiction

    Knaves & Whoresons

    Jalina Mhyana·
    “I suicide, I suicide!” he cried out, en pointe, as if strung up by an invisible rope lashed to a rafter in the heaven of the homeless shelter. His hands collared his strangulated neck, a frill of starched fingers...