The interior of our childrens schools feel other-wordly now, dare we place a toe over the treshold.
Blog
inanimate
I thought of the end and / I met it for what it was.
the other mother
Her snail’s pace is patience, thrumming through the rooms where I try to exist.
For Him.
It all happened in an instant, just like the lightning rush.
preservation
inches from the nowhere drain
the rockhounder
hound the ones with rounded edges
postpartum
it took a year for it / to die, shelled and / alone in a far corner of / the unkempt living room.
kensington solstice
in thick, tar-fused junes / we purpled shins on bike pedals
the rut
descend and dissolve
on why I can’t help myself
because I don't / know how to know / it any other way
