“I hope I can be the autumn leaf, who looked at the sky and lived. And when it was time to leave, gracefully it knew life was a gift.” ~ Dodinsky Robins scream at the sky as ifto steal daylight, whose shadows crossthe Dubuque Riverwalk, whereI hold an autumn leaf to the heavens:gilded translucency brightensthe edges of my fingertips likesunlight… Read more →
Their skin is the black ash of paper —they skim the still burning woods for a place to nest. I like to think of themlike a friend who can sense a crisis from a continent away: shefinds the breaking apart and blackening of a body eaten by its own heat and seesa place to grow. Their teeth have the hold… Read more →
The jasmine under my backyard oaks is blooming. Thick, dirtyground cover and reaching white blossoms, like pinwheels, stir the air.The breeze carries their scent to our cocoons, our bodies curledtoward one another in separate cerulean hammocks. We pinch timeand pass joints rolled tight by your hands, much bigger than mine.Hands that didn’t help me hang the blue hammocks between the… Read more →
The sun spins its slow circle of beam upon her left hand. She smiles, an echo of the waning crescent moon. her hair brushes the stream. she lays her palm flat upon the water as it moves a wave up to reach her, a furl, the curve of a note. the air is warm with dirt. in cloud-speak a message… Read more →
Your aunt’s blind dog Patsy turns corners in your sleep. Patsy felt her way around, the way an egg will curl against the corner of a pan. Now you doubt this is your memory at all, embraced and protected in a thin carton of scrambled images. Move and the egg spins inside of you. One turn with the spatula and… Read more →
i. My harp Check it out. Ten holes, steel cover plate, wooden comb, brass reeds hidden within the holes. Engraved onto the top of the cover plate is a Victorian-style portrait, a man’s profile, high collar, sideburns down to his jawline, surrounded by a garland of flowers, and the words Marine Band, M. Hohner. It fits in the palm of… Read more →
For Jesse Jesse was the youngest boy of thirteen boys and I was the youngest girl of eight one quiet childless house groaning between ours as we teemed from the windows and made smears of our fingerprints on the glass Jesse had an imaginary friend and it told him to key all the cars on our street pour sugar into… Read more →
We lock every window and door, a futile effort to keep our children safe from hazed atmosphere. But I do not want to talk about the air or how much my eyelids itch. Instead, I have chosen to fall in love with your wrist and relish in the way it bends as you chop an onion, how you cradle the… Read more →
Let me be a monster, or a child. Does not play well with others. Let me be cruel for once; owner of the ferocious dog, unapologetic of its snarl. I, too, am feral. I, too, have teeth that sink into animal. Let me tell the truth, risk losing you for good. I have earned this darkness. Paid for it with… Read more →
Excerpted from Fighting Pollution and Climate Change: An EPA Veteran’s Guide How to Join in Saving our Life on Planet Earth, by Richard W. Emory, Jr. www.fightingpollutionbook.com, BookLocker Publishing, August 2020. At the sounding of the horn, some women—permanent residents of our little town—grabbed their sharpest knives and rushed out their front doors. In the street, they were joined by… Read more →