Posts by author
KB Brookins
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Real Housewives of Hell
Your daddy had the kind of laugh you can tell came from the belly. It was genuine, heavy with something like freedom. What even is freedom in this city where we had to be mean or invisible to be queer?
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National Poetry Month: KB Brookins
Sometimes I miss home and then I eat a sandwich. / Sometimes I want to call my cousin, tell her all her bullshit—