I found you wrapped in plastic shivering on the concrete basement floor.  A crescent moon-shaped slot allows me to hold you as I slide my diced onions into the sizzling skillet.  Dense bamboo wood, face marred with shallow cuts chiseled into your skin, scars I have given you. Â
Dollhouse playdates, sidewalk chalk. Fairy gardens. Swingsets, sunsets. Treehouse hideouts. Play pretend.  Buggy bonfires, ghost in the graveyard. Naked Barbie parties. Bike rides, early nights. Finding fireflies. First friends.  Wii Bowling, Just Dance. Apples to Apples. S
maybe i don’t remember the interim the place where dark and light stayed separate there must have been times when we were whole and the world shined in the sun, a plastic toy bathed by the dewy grass. but now when i think back all i recall is the merging, shifting, nights when the morning [&hellip
The old barn is demolished, the ghosts of the gentle cows flitting away. Winter comes and the ground shifts. The pasture goes to hip-length ragweed and goldenrod. The sun is lost behind a cloud.   We used to pluck June apples from the mother- tree and taste their greenness, vegetable
We’re spinning spinning spinning legs faces bodies bouncing up and down hips shaking now the rhythm quickens everyone faster push muscles in our calves, backs, arms rising to the beat—quick— before we die before we’re gone the night only lasts so long fill it up with color wild brushstrokes
Summer is ending and it feels like: an unraveling. Swirls of silken rage scatter my floor, shredded to bits by the last snippet of compassion I carry. I fear I may have ripped open my seams and forgotten to stitch the trauma back in, I cannot function without its constant leering. Â Â Summer is [&
I lay in bed till the microfiber threads wove their way into my veins. I played dead curled up roly poly till summer was on its deathbed.  and I thought about you, the middle of June, the streets of Seoul— I pretended I was thinking of nothing at all. But the playground taunts that […]
My Sunday shoes are grey and purple, formed to sprint and not to kneel in prayer. Against their will, we walk as darkness is restored. If you, my neighbor, peered and snagged a glimpse, you might admire our weekly, reverent hour. And maybe you consider how we leave a wisp of breath, communion shar
The first night back in her bedroom, I had to relearn who she was. She liked soft, plush blankets that pull you in and make you drown under their warm waves until you can barely tell where the bed ends and you begin. I have gotten used to beds that keep you separate from them, […]
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