I’ve taken to staring at my face in the mirror each night. After I’ve gently washed it. After I’ve patted it dry and brushed my wet bangs off to one side I stare. At first, I did so halfway as if off handedly catching my reflection in a storefront. Unintentional. Removed. But then something would […]
As the Anniversary of My Mom’s Death Approaches
by on March 28, 2019 Leave a Comment
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
by on February 21, 2019 Leave a Comment
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
by on November 22, 2018 6 Comments
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
by on September 27, 2018 10 Comments
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 […]
