I know little of weaving but that I can pull together these strings of loneliness and fashion some sort of shroud to drape across my empty shelves. The hills cradle my house and my half-empty bed, but I am no more a fixed point than love. What is there in a landscape that says settle: … Continue reading
Eventually it comes between us: not the plaster barricade between every tender moment we might have, but the dependence. After the flurry of surgeons and worry of damage there is the carrying of urine, changing of bandage, the creak of crutches and incessant talk of scabs. Like a shabby patch of grass I am stretched … Continue reading
Late afternoon slants, illuminates the worn, white husk of hive and gleams like an incubator bulb on the oval of an egg. This might have been the way I was born to move over my mother and wash from her what was left of painful birth, her legs opened like the old wood cracked with … Continue reading
And what really changed? I slept each night, and each night it was easy, the red-tipped edge of dreams descending into ash. I got a job and friends and lived my life with no distraction. I was happy. My back felt better. I stopped wanting to argue all the time. I read magazines and cereal … Continue reading
