Two Parents Conference Call at the Halt of the World
When the college where my husband and I both teach English announces virtual meetings, we know there’s only one way to make it: strap our children into their car seats and drive. When this begins, our daughter is not quite two years, and our son is 2 months old, and even when we’re parked, they trust that we’re going somewhere…. Read more →
The Eye Doctor
I was 9 years old, wearing a green plaid dresswith a peter pan collar. Every time I remember my childhood I’m wearing that dress. There was an immensemahogany table. There must have been an eye chart. The Doctor’s hands flapped like dying fishover the top of my dress. I was too young to have breasts. My mother said nothing. I… Read more →
Hitchhiker
Past the checkpoint,you spot a manwith a backpack, wavinga rag above his head.And when your fatherspots him too, takeshis eyes off the roadto take in this figureemerging from the bush,you wonder what he thinks,if he sees himself in this man,if he remembers, as youbelieve the blank starein his face says he does,his own crossing, how itwasn’t until the third, fourth,maybe… Read more →
Abandon
On the shoulder, they rest—truck, car, van. And all afternoon,as you drive past each of them,you wonder why they’ve beenabandoned, if they had run outof gas, had a tire blow out,or if the engine, as personifiedas any object, had just given up,which is what your father saidthat night, years ago, he came homesoaked in sweat, and upon taking offhis shirt,… Read more →
Requiem
And after my father straps a bladeto its claw, and mumbles what I assumeis the end of a prayer, I wonderwhat part of this is real, what sliver of truthpits him against a figure so eagerto thrust his rooster forward, to let gravityguide it to the ground, and to watch—as my father steps back, becomes spectatorand coach—the chaos that ensues,the… Read more →
Just Like Your Mother
Three years ago, before the separation,hate-spattered yellow, Sherwin Williams, the boundary of our bodies growing jagged,then dashed, to suggest disputed territory. I imagine you sleeping with the same intensityof a squinting cat. You are not asleep, yet things go more literally, smoothly,as when the fret at the foot of the floor grieves openly, the way morphine spiggles out the door… Read more →
Duplex (on my father)
I’m still grieving the realityA girl dissolves on dandelion wishes A girl dissolves on dandelion wishesI love boys who make me forget my father I love boys who make me forget my fatherHow he vanished and left the doors open I left the door open and the boy I loved vanishedAnd rage steals my breath like a phantom Phantoms steal… Read more →
Cactus
It was a relief to drive away,leave the weight of herto the day nursewhose broad hands could lift,clean, and dress her. Soon, I will call you to sit in silence,both of us losing a role as daughter.Later I will make a chair of my bodystiff, expectant for her restless flesh,which had become an empty cage. Anytime now, the day nurse… Read more →
