Jane Silcott is a Vancouver writer whose work has appeared in several literary magazines and anthologies, including the recently published Slice Me Some Truth.
My husband is a liar. When I complain about the wrinkles on my neck, he says, “What wrinkles?” Then I laugh because I don’t want to press the point. Would it be a good idea to have him examine, truly, the decay that is my neck skin? Think wattle. Think chicken with pinfeathers that spring out overnight.
