/*! elementor – v3.6.6 – 08-06-2022 */ .elementor-widget-image{text-align:center}.elementor-widget-image a{display:inline-block}.elementor-widget-image a img[src$=”.svg”]{width:48px}.elementor-widget-image img{vertical-align:middle;display:inline-block} Foreboding, Spring 202
for Gram, who I never met. My mother tells me something about you— your favorite color was yellow. Dandelions bloom in forgotten fields, where caretakers are taking care elsewhere. My mother tells me something else about you— you were a zealous introvert. Dining
/*! elementor – v3.6.6 – 08-06-2022 */ .elementor-widget-image{text-align:center}.elementor-widget-image a{display:inline-block}.elementor-widget-image a img[src$=”.svg”]{width:48px}.elementor-widget-image img{vertical-align:middle;display:inline-block} Spooky Print, Spring 2
i am to trying to remember you and how you looked before you were gold like your wedding ring and i am trying to remember or trying to forget how you looked at me and how it burnt like the iron at dress rehearsals i am an amnesiac home from war […]
If I had a platform If I had a stage A microphone, audience and camera Here is what I would say: one in five women i am that one one in five women i am angry i am furious i don’t want to hear “not all men” i don’t want to […]
—With excerpts from “The Gift of Scoliosis” by Debra Ordes 1 May was the month of sorting. I turned out my desk drawers, moved my bookshelf, recruited my mother’s help to replace the adolescent turquoise on my walls with a calm alternative called “Baby Fawn.” Hours into rearranging
/*! elementor – v3.6.6 – 08-06-2022 */ .elementor-widget-image{text-align:center}.elementor-widget-image a{display:inline-block}.elementor-widget-image a img[src$=”.svg”]{width:48px}.elementor-widget-image img{vertical-align:middle;display:inline-block} Sophie in Motion, Spri
As my five needles make their rounds, I watch my skein grow smaller. Click, snap, twist, lock. Heathered yarn knots into fabric. My skein grows smaller But a tube buds from my needles like a spring leaf. Heathered yarn knots into fabric, Weaving a line into the third dimension. A sock buds lik
the college student simulation runs full steam. campus is bustling, my cardigan buttoned to my throat to ward off boys with backwards baseball caps. it’s the sweetest day of the year, sorority girls with their bleach blonde hair and permasmiles giggle all cutesy, raining gifts from the hea
/*! elementor – v3.6.6 – 08-06-2022 */ .elementor-widget-image{text-align:center}.elementor-widget-image a{display:inline-block}.elementor-widget-image a img[src$=”.svg”]{width:48px}.elementor-widget-image img{vertical-align:middle;display:inline-block} My Childhood Kitchen,
