Yesterday I saw a friend for the first time in a long while. We stayed at a distance, fully masked, because I have some kind of not-well and it is has laid me low. I needed a test, and the services available to me were insufficient– so he drove from some distance and brought me one. I scurried down the stairs to meet him, in … Continue reading promises to possums, and back again
My pasta is shaped like little bells. I fill them with a heavy simmered sauce made of rose harissa, preserved lemons, and heavy cream. In a tall glass, I serve a ginger beer with a splash of blood orange syrup. I eat my meal slowly, hesitantly– the opposite of how I cook. In the kitchen, I am confidence and bustle, long and curly hair pinned … Continue reading journal 1.8
If I were to leave my body behind for the night, I wouldn’t go far. I would hover; wrap her in company. If the pain stayed with sinew, I would sing songs, full-bodied. I would float in them; fight to memorize. Maybe she would remember in the morning. If the pain stayed with me, I would still fold close. I would look at her resting, … Continue reading 100 / for the night
A poem cannot be a pigeon. It cannot be the wattled beak that cracks the stale bread, it cannot be the craning neck that whips the air. It cannot be the tail or toenail, crop, shield, or eye. Certainly not the watchful eye. A poem cannot see the stranger, in ultraviolet glory, take crumbs out of their pocket and shed feast over the small hungry … Continue reading a poem cannot be a pigeon.
The Sun is singing in a staircase, somewhere. In the alley outside my apartment, rain is playing Moonlight Sonata inside an abandoned glass vase; every splash, a note that echoes. My mind is building fireslime to seep myself in, despite best efforts. I slice the tomatoes for simmer anyway, and the rice pours into the pot with a soft and soothing shhh. Shhh, shh, it … Continue reading 14
Jumping off point provided by Monday Meme Prompts via CamiSarahPoetry on Instagram. Based on a tumblr post from GiveMeArmsToPrayWith that reads, “every day I wakeup and drink my silly little coffee while God eats my heart like a pomegranate in front of me” Every day I wake up and stretch a silly little stretch. I like to pretend my joints will get on just fine … Continue reading every day i wake up
I climb onto a folding chair and reach up, at one point balancing only on my right leg, both arms extended. I tape a string to the ceiling and when I let go, watch as the sparkling snowflake at the other end of the string dangles in the sky of my apartment. In the background, Christmas music blares, and if this is your first time … Continue reading just a snowflake
I’ve been going to bed early and I want to say this is because at thirty-seven years old, I’ve finally grown into adulthood, but really it is because I have grown into a sadness. This will not surprise anyone here, because even I saw it growing in the corner of every post shared this year. In November, I tried to write it out, weed it … Continue reading under the weeds