My name braids images as a preverbal toddler. My mother’s loving hands braiding red ribbons in my hair. My bedroom a blue marble across the hall from my parent’s room, another planet. My small girl’s closet full of embroidered blouses, eyelet dresses, and superhero underwear. The dining room where my mother braided loaves of bread and patchwork quilts with yellow… Read more →
On the hard-packed snow in the dusk is a tarantula the size of a child’s hand, black and still. In this light it’s hard to tell whether it’s real or a dollar store toy, the kind you find in hedges at Halloween, resting on clots of synthetic floss. I nudge it with my toe and it slides forward, stiff and… Read more →
“You dazzle me,” my father Lee wrote to Flossi Banks in late 1945. “Whenever I look into your green-flecked eyes—mmm, there I go again.” Such passion, such openness. This man was unrecognizable. “Should I close this with…’my heart beats like an a-bomb?’” In response there were a few distant letters from Flossi, the Ivy League lady who raised me and… Read more →
Backyard of garter snakes stretched down to soggy marsh. My father left slices of death behind the mower. Up a hill alone to kindergarten. Red-marked worksheets strewn free from my bag. My father’s beercan collection shelved library neat. A rusted nail passed through my shoe. Sideburns and shag carpet. Gray fuel of smoke. My mother at the sink. At the… Read more →
1) Count your days in rocks See if they seem to multiply. The leaves that kept you company are now encased in mud, which will become stone, which will become dust. Notice, how much dust have you (not) cleaned? 2) Look at what’s not done We human are fickle creatures and often start projects that we have no intentions… Read more →
The chisel makes tick sounds shrapneling ice, notes passing time. I’m not sure if I’m digging, carving, or sculpting. Landslides smooth architecture bracing once breathing bodies, stopped clocks. The alchemy unique across bodies. Some hold terror like a baton in a relay race, and pass it on. Some bodies retain terror like a force-feeding. Pathogens are neutral when frozen, here… Read more →
I get stuck in your hair now and again to remind you of when you found me long after the festival was over, how you washed me down with basin water and asked if our blossoming could sync.
you are like an old man who, thinking he once saved a jar of starlight, believes that he can sprinkle it anytime. You look at me, our love gone like a daughter we lost to disease, who now sits each night at our dinner table and refused to be fed. We prop her up anyway and coax silver spoons into… Read more →