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Joyce Allen lives in the woods near Chapel Hill, North Carolina, and works in the Department of Epidemiology at the University of North Carolina. Her stories have appeared in The Hudson Review and The Crescent Review.
I have not been close to my mother. We have been friendly, conventional, conversational — not close. I felt her love as a black hole, waiting to suck me in. I danced cautiously around its rim. Now it is safe to come close. It always was safe.
September 1988Has something we published moved you? Fired you up? Did we miss the mark? We’d love to hear about it.
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