Sheree Shatsky

Mother. A tan Ann-Margret. Restless bird a-flutter in a concrete box. Pink and grey terrazzo hallways escape, slip slide shiny with Johnson Floor Wax. In the spring, Ann-Margret will chip-chip-chip away the yellowed film. On hands and knees, patellas bony against the tough-as-nails shine, a sleeve of razor blades stuffed deep in the pocket of […]