Birth

Photo by Annie Spratt via Unsplash . Birth .                                         For my grandmother She walked to the door: small, viscous steps. The apron tightened over her swollen belly. She called the virgin’s tender name and it came... Continue Reading →

Five Stages

Loss, a sculpture by Jane Mortimer Photo by K. Mitch Hodge via Unsplash . Five Stages   1. Denial It has no room in this house, she said. Leave it at the door. Tie it to the fence. Let it whimper and slobber away from my table. I cannot feed one more hunger. When night... Continue Reading →

Silence at Dawn

Photo by Juan Davila via Unsplash : Silence at Dawn : The lake wasn’t deep. We pushed the boat out and watched it take on water.  You  drank and drank  and  drank.    The  taste,  you  said,  an afterthought,  a bruise.  I wish you had let me drink,  too. Later,  the upended flask.  The snake... Continue Reading →

On the Bus

Photo by Julian Lozano via Unsplash : On the Bus : I wait to get home. The bus keeps on its route. Shadow buildings bow in the rain. The driver recites in staccato names of streets, names of people, years of passengers’ births and deaths. Each street grows its people. They ripen and wait to... Continue Reading →

Rain in March

Photo by Christopher via Unsplash : Rain in March : 1. It’s always the same every year: rescue teams fight the current, pick up the oddballs who wished for excitement and got plenty. Those who thrash about in the shallows, certain they’ll make the headlines, are left to their own devices. Why do I wish... Continue Reading →

Midnight Jasmine

Photo by Annie Spratt via Unsplash : Midnight Jasmine : I blame myself. The years that keep going by, the countries between us, the many hands that have touched you since, the many lips. You, who were so new. They say you love what you’ve lost. My loss is a desert of books, furniture, people.... Continue Reading →

The Fig Tree

Photo by Jeremy Bishop via Unsplash : The Fig Tree : We walk down the path with our children. Dust rises behind us like smoke.  The ground is littered with figs: small purple bodies burst open to show their red seeds.  Foreignness blooms quietly inside their wounds. All these years I wished to be whole,... Continue Reading →

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