Writings by: Pauletta Hansel

This author has written 7 pieces

The City

After the rain, the alley smelled of wet screen door, the city-stink of piled up garbage and exhaust washed nearly clean. She noticed this only in spring. By summer the rain when it came bucketing down made thick mud of the foulness. The city dug in its heels, spread its…

Hateful

my Granny said, her pleated velvet cheeks aquiver as we watched the battered Fords and coal trucks splatter gravel from the road above the porch. That’s one thing I can’t abide. I don’t remember who it was or what he did that made my Granny spit his name like chaw…

Telephone

I. An appendage of my stepdaughter’s hand, pink as the tongue it has muted. Even as she sleeps it snores gently in her loosened grasp. All day her thumbs tap coded words across the screen, her eyes alive in its light. II. In my mother’s hand, another riddle she once…