A clownfish survives in the arms of an anemone: its poison is protection, a ritual of sting and shelter What is it, if not the push and pull of love of an Asian family a bond so deep it suffers inside the sea When my partner says, “Just tell your mom how you feel,” I try. I really try. But the words stick in my throat Stinging me like I’ve swallowed an anemone All that comes out is: “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.” So I hide the little white pills And the pain with the fears I ma

How much would you ask to be paid for a job where you never sleep —well, barely — and must be ready to entertain, cook (acceptable meals only), rotate laundry twenty-four seven, and keep the office —I mean, the home — clean and tidy? Would you do it for free? For payment in giggles, half-chewed kisses, and just to keep it interesting, the occasional full-body scream in a grocery store, or a tantrum about toast cut the wrong way? You need to be so wide a blanket octopus, stret