As the Anniversary of My Mom’s Death Approaches

The body remembers. It keeps tabs and intuits cycles. The doing the feeling the becoming all tangled together. Not unlike last year’s morning glory vines braided together, now brown from frost after frost after frost. Whose roots are plump with green, waiting while the light stretches long About a month before The date something shifts […]

What Women Look Like On the Inside

My mom always carried a large purse. One year it was a black macramé number. The next, brown pleather. While she sat at the kitchen table paying bills I would rummage through it. Peppermints, a smattering of pennies, bent bobby pins, tissues stamped with pink lipstick. “This is what women look like on the inside,” […]

A Sliver of Light

You can always sit with us I think, feel, believe in my bones as I pinch my finger on a folding chair and cuss under my breath I think, feel, believe in my bones that it is always better to land on the side of love. Under my breath, I murmur I know I will […]

The Both/And

There are some weights I’ve carried silently across years, my skin and bone growing right around them tangled complicated. The heaviness buried. Still, I grew into my frame. I softened, curved found my way. I’ve made beautiful things. I can be both/and. But then, on a day still close, words spilled inky and echoed across […]

How to Light a Fire

It is said that fire is a triumvirate An “association of three.” Heat. Fuel. Oxygen. A trinity of dependence. // HEAT It is late summer. This is incessantly confirmed by the humming locusts and the heat made visible in the shimmering mirage at the end of the gravel. I am always fooled. My body, cloaked […]