Denise Raike | WORKING TITLE

WORKING TITLE Why, it got so bad that they began to laugh before I opened my mouth. —Dorothy Parker It’s not just the gin, I can assure you. An empty round of lives we bring to this blank page of a hotel, whining to be filled; the envy of every foyer and curtain club that […]

Denise Raike | MID-ATLANTIC

MID-ATLANTIC On hearing Sylvia Plath’s recorded reading of Daddy— her voice, vowels stretched in opposing directions, threatening to snap—you find yourself fluid in her Mid-Atlantic tones, gasping. When she confesses she has killed him, though dead already, you believe her, and almost yearn for the imagined murders of your own childhood, the ache of not […]