shoulder padsa cigarette burn on my left shoulder her middle namea battle with me at the middlesecond helpings of mashed potatoestoo little pride to succeed, too much to ask for helphow to win Monopolyhow to cheathow to cheat the systemNintendo 64an excuse for asking: “Do you love me? Do you love me? Do you love… Continue reading Things My Mother Gave Me [That I Did Not Ask For]
Never is honey as rawas its origin flower, at the moment of dehiscence,giving in to the releaseof seeds, pollen, and the quiet that comes after —the spontaneous openingalong a single crackof built-in weakness,where the wound fails to heal. Mark how the wisteria behaves,dripping from a ceilingin the 1900 blockof NE Schuyler Street;how its winglike petals… Continue reading The Raw Touch
What makes a favorite number is enigmatic. The answer to how many blades of grasswhistled between my thumbs on that hazy summer afternoon, bored to death, but still sweatingonly childhood — how many didn't?The rhythm of counting clovers by color white, white, red, blistering red not minding the stinger,on the instep of my index finger,… Continue reading 4
the memory of the pansy, bold faced, persisting through whiplash weather.March 14: snow.March 15: storm of pollen over the mountains,across the flats,down into the valleys — everywhere,everything,flourishingall at once.It was my first hay fever,I think, but it is hard to think back.So much happens each day.
My therapist asked me to write a letter to you, not to send, but to put at the back of the silverware drawer. Eventually, we hope that I stop looking for you there—in my upside-down reflection on a spoon;and learn to separate my body image from your body.It has been 20 years, yet I still… Continue reading Persephone