Jayson Carcione

May 21, 2024 | theargylelitmag.com | David Estringel |Jayson Carcione

Behold my face. It is my mother’s face. My mamma. We share the same slender nose, the delicate brow. Our razor-sharp cheekbones would cut you with a kiss. We have an identical, small olive-coloured mole above the right-side curl of our upper lips. Eyes like black pearls. Our hair is thick and dark as the deepest night, although I wear mine shorter. We have neither laugh lines nor wrinkles. These will no doubt ravage me in time, but my mamma is forever young.

Mar 4, 2024 | picciolettabarca.com | Jayson Carcione

Photo by Marissa Lewis‍‍‍Summer dawns, dark and dirty. The sky is heavy, but the rain will not come. Heat rises from the dead rivers, the manhole covers, the stinking city streets. You can fry an egg on the sidewalk. Your brother told you this, so it must be true. You close your eyes and can almost hear the sizzle of bleeding egg white on the pavement. You close your eyes and see a yoke burning brighter than the sun. Your grandparents have not ventured outside for days.

Jul 10, 2023 | irishexaminer.com | Jayson Carcione

In the latest of our summer-themed pieces, the Cork-based writer returns to his hometown for the tale of a young boy making a forbidden journey in a sweltering city on the edge      Summer dawns, dark and dirty. The sky is heavy, but the rain will not come. Heat rises from the dead rivers, the manhole covers, the stinking city streets. You can fry an egg on the sidewalk. Your brother told you this, so it must be true.