A Piece of White Chocolate

Mr. Perry and Mr. Vandercamp brought me, Keith, and Gabe, all fatherless sons, to the town dump to sell chocolate as a summer camp fundraiser. Technically it was a landfill, and standing at the lip I saw bulldozers scraping away dirt to make room for bags of garbage. It smelled terrible. Taking the trash to

Burn Bright Thistle

Would you please burn Thistles and downy feathers for me, Cut birds, animals and vegetablesA ritual of blood and concrete. I am passing temporary bodies of myself, Here harsh and thorny Double by the roadside – mangled left for fodderLong twinning fingers and  Chatter voices chatter. The ghosts of myself are oracles, Purple stalk and vine –Between their veins I see my futureAnd

First Year ESL Paraprofessional

I can’t soothe the hurt I see in them…I wish I could.Their actions under the circumstances impress me.At their age, I was an utter emotional mess.It says so in the Snoopy diary with the broken lockstored in my footlocker in the basement.   Theirs seems a dark lonely world, a damp cold wind chilling their emotionsremains their

Building a Heterogenous Home

When I heard my husband Brandon’s phone buzz, and he answered with recognition, I would try to determine who was calling.  It could be his sister who lived five miles away or his parents five hours away. My heart raced. If he said, “Oh not doing much,” and inquired, “What about you?” I held my

Enter or Egress

I wake in a room full of doors, floor to ceiling, wall to wall, nothing but doors, and no handle on a single one of them. This isn’t the room I fell asleep in, that room had only one door, two windows, a desk against one wall where I spend all the hours I own

Do You Think You’ll Notice?

I guess I’ve been missing the mark lately. Just last week, I bought those discount pleather boots from the thrift shop on Stournari. I showed you them, you frowned, typed something into your phone, and looked at me. I’d never bought anything second-hand (my mom would probably have an aneurysm), but thanks to you, I

Stream Never Failing

“But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!”  -Amos 5:24 (NIV)                                                                  *** A mother and her son rest in Patterson Park on a beach towel beside a murky stream of water. The subtle sloosh of running water is no match for the handful of birds circling overhead. The chirp of

Past, Present, Future

Past reclaimed the soulwe saw what we see now;the sight seen before fear…to enticedknowledge…unbearableresistance…near impossible ‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎smoke filled curls‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎beaten horizon‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

Growling

My stomach growls in a room full of strangers. …and of course the room is silent.The kind of silent that makes your ears ring. Some try to ignore it‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Secondhand embarrassment is still embarrassment. I feel it on them — a relief they

but the swan still gets the stars

Leda can cry like a nightingale,stuttered wingbeats against the bedsheets but all words are smothered in the faceof a hunger god’s desires. What else can a queen do but endurewhen that trumpet neck curves across the sky? The swell of her stomach becomesdivine intervention— ‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎