When I was 12 years old, I received a postcard from my older sister. She’d mailed it from her job as a receptionist, a few suburbs away. The image was of a baby bird in a nest. Mouth open, eyes closed, screaming for masticated food. Only, where the mother bird would have been was a pool of twink and written over it in black vivid was the word “Cunt!” Exclamation point included.
I must have kept that postcard for 15 years. I can’t find it now, but it’s
