They say, How can you put up with it? My dress red as a reason. They say, He wants a divorce. But he’s always had some Tootsie behind the scenes. Silk caught in his throat. Now when he lowers me into the casket, I dream of the sword swallower’s silver tongue.
Hey, do you understand the urge I possess to choose a bright, fluorescent-colored piece of sidewalk chalk from a plastic bucket and scribble random esotericisms on your face? Sometimes I even desire to press my cheek against your roughness and slide downward. I need to feel the sandpaper-like composites of your being teething my skin. What color would I mar… Read more →
I know now why I’m fat–I am heavy with child. I was seventeen and off to college, seventeen and full of possibilities and cream filling, full of caramel centers and cheese pizza. I was a tiny slip of girl and then I wasn’t. And ever since then, ever since the day I looked in the mirror and realized my cheekbones… Read more →
I have a twin brother. Another way of stating this is I am a twin. Mike Maginnis’ novel, Fat Man and Little Boy, begins: Two Bombs over Japan. One called Little Boy. One called Fat Man. Three days apart. The one implicit in the other. Brothers. I grew up in a context in which “I” was divided. I was… Read more →
My mother needed help getting out of the bathtub. I had never seen my mother’s body bare. I sometimes saw her in her white bra and white underpants, big white underpants spread to dry across the clothesline like a row of unfolded paper doll cutouts. She didn’t hide her body when I came to help her. Her stomach was crisscrossed… Read more →
Friday night, my wife calls me at school and says she has food poisoning. I can hear the crack in her voice, so I drive home, imagine a weekend juggling two kids under two while she’s holed up in the john. When I arrive, she is hunched over in pain and says she needs to lie down. I hold our… Read more →
How did it feel to cook before me– to eat? Years ago I became moored on a dessert island– not a desert island, you see, but a place where I got up at midnight in a stranger’s home and padded downstairs to bake. At night my cupcakes were gastro-astronomical– as it is, we use our gullets to look down dark… Read more →
I dug up garnets west of Chatham. They stared like blood ruby eyes across a tobacco field, a weedy ditch. They felt like burnt, swollen pennies. I hid them all summer in a big clam shell. I gave them to a cousin one night. He grinned and said, sew a dark cloth around them, bag them up like heaven. He… Read more →