Bombshell Incarnation


At a halfway ordinary looking space station diner, Poinsette applies concealer and then foundation to cover up some zits. Within a couple of minutes, two other women arrive. One is just out of the joint. Her niece asks point blank, “Does having anal sex with that kid mean I’m still a virgin?” They have different loyalties, faiths, colors, breaking points, plans. Being the last immortal to live among humans, Poinsette discovers beautiful things everywhere––baby icicles, cicada shells, self-portrait in falling leaves, door between two pines. In a field of pink dandelions, she hears the letters of a word form in her head––Reparations––a subject so incendiary it risks being accused of politics rather than respected as the highest art. When she gets up to leave, it’s with the unshakeable knowledge that everything happens because not deadening with hesitation or mediocrity is the only way to love.



[Published in The Ongoing Saga I Told My Daughter: Expanded Edition.

© 2016 by Jim Cohn.]





The Ongoing Saga I Told My Daughter: Expanded Edition
(MAP Publications, 2016)