To this day no one really knows where my kris came from or whether or not it’s a significant part of my family history, if it’s a random object or an heirloom with an untold story.
Everyone around us is speaking Russian, and I feel like we are in Russia, the old one, before the wall came down. For a moment, I even feel like I belong.
I thought that hearts were meant to function as uteri, / to grow linings that bleed clotty when life won’t adhere, / to stall like rusty engines in barren winters, / unprepared for the seasonal shift.
Joe Okonkwo discusses his debut novel Jazz Moon, the quest for self-discovery, creative inspiration, and what it means to build a family when home is so very far away.