Tag Archives: love

What We Talk About When We Talk About Time

Posted on December 19, 2025 by John Biscello

1.    The hem of her dress had caught his eye.    Yours was an eye waiting to be caught, she’d say, later, much later, a drizzle of girlishness in her voice.    The dress was a form-fitting red dress … Continue reading →

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Crumbs

Posted on December 16, 2025 by John Biscello

   That’s him , yeah. That’s right, every day, from late morning to dusk, he sits on that bench and waits for her. I don’t know who she was. His love who left him. Or died. Disappeared. There are all … Continue reading →

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Vigil

Posted on November 17, 2025 by John Biscello

When I watched my mother brush her hair, it made a scraping electric sound: vibrating plastic teeth sinking repeatedly into a fuzzy animal. I loved watching my mother brush her hair. I’d make sure to always stand behind her, so … Continue reading →

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That Thing With Feathers

Posted on November 13, 2025 by John Biscello

   As she moved her bladed hips beneath him, small dark starshaped birds tore out of her hips, scissoring the air, and were then immediately sucked back into her hips, as if by an invisible vacuum.    He stopped, and … Continue reading →

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Moonstruck

Posted on September 17, 2025 by John Biscello

A lamp clicks on. A swath of gauzy light projects cinematically onto a chrome operating table, where an umbrella and a sewing machine are making love. Are about to make love. Have already made love. Their romance transcends tenses and … Continue reading →

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Fable

Posted on September 8, 2025 by John Biscello

I have become moonless in my grief, a paled comparison. But to what? To who I used to be? What I expected to become? I feel as if I’ve been laid out an operating table, and Time, as a methodically … Continue reading →

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Dinner

Posted on August 31, 2025 by John Biscello

   I waited. We waited. A storm was coming. It had to be. He had returned from rehab several days earlier, after having been gone for two months. My father had always born pouchy bags under his eyes, but there, … Continue reading →

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Postcard from the Edge

Posted on August 20, 2025 by John Biscello

On a chrome operating table, an umbrella and a sewing machine make love. Are about to make love. Have already made love. One or the other or the other. It is industrial burlesque in a vintage Parisian postcard bearing a … Continue reading →

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Sea Change

Posted on August 25, 2024 by John Biscello

Excerpt from my recently completed novel, Worlds Last Imagined. This fragment is a meditation upon the tenuous and subjective relationship between memory and fiction: She stood at a distance, imagining her daughter there, playing. She saw how her daughter lit … Continue reading →

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Love and Death

Posted on February 8, 2024 by John Biscello

The branch of the tree reaching down. It reaches down to graze the time-scarred headstone, to caress it. Could this be … a secret love story, a love story with no history, or with a cortege of history, spanning many … Continue reading →

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