By Megan Susman

I dreamt of a golem, once.

In the pre-dawn light, spires of a skeletal city rose above my head, the wind shrieking through gaps of tortured metal and crumbled concrete. On empty streets, roots burst through asphalt and clung to deflated tires. The world sparkled with broken glass. I was alone. Or rather, I was nearly alone. Sparrows flitted through half-opened windows and bowed acacia trees, mice climbed along distended rainspouts, and a lone tomcat watched me from the gum-stained sidewalk. My breath came ragged and fast. All of man’s creations were lost to the wild patience of nature. Read the rest of this entry »