Your kick was powerful and it was very challenging to change your diaper. I actually felt this kick when you were in my tummy, which made me think you were a boy.Read More >
I was 14, older than him, capable of stopping him. But I’d been caught off guard when he said “Hey, c’mere,” and I just stood there, paralyzed, looking at the cat, the bucket, the hose on the ground next to him.Read More >
A glued-together castle vs
a single deep-breath.
In your eyes there is always
or white flags.
Waited for reality to prove itself.
Gravitated naturally toward the gutter.
Heard sewage down there.
Crouched down, peeked my head inside.Read More >
My mother, who left
to live in a safe house
next to a sheep farm,
ate lamb chops every night
in college we burned in the dark
thinking our lives would be romantic
When I think about you in prison, so medicated
you couldn’t hold anything
in, I want to kick the guards’ teeth
The New World arrived
when we were unconscious
Her round, though in places pointy, head — which contained her now trembling eyelids and quivering lips — panned the room slowly. She heard a soft rustling, like a dragging blanket.Read More >
At New York’s MoMA, Henri Rousseau’s The Dream (1910) is attacked with a straight razor by a local college professor of physics, who after screaming “I am the fuck of your reality” stabs the image of a full moon in the painting’s upper right-hand corner eleven times before restraint.Read More >
I give my arms a more thorough wash in the farmhouse sink then start to burp the blue drum barrels of sauerkraut.
From the window I see the older child in the yard, slapping his hand on the flat stump of a recently cut birch.
50. In late 1992, on their first date, my parents saw The Crying Game.
51. On Wednesday, Mom quit family counseling.
52. I make my bed. I lie in it.Read More >
In the morning light, the void of thy lips
Parted as the ropes of the bee skep