Tag: grief
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two by two
stacked rocks fall I stack them again to be sure to be sure. two wicks burn the same candle spirits alight; bodies of fire. ranunculus petals fall one on top of the other like even in death they can’t stand to be apart (even in death.) about these poems a family I don’t know personally…
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Paper-whites
Truthfully, I hoped you’d ask about the Paper-whites. About their 4 x 3-foot patch of soil, about the piece of hand-me-down wrought iron fencing behind them, the single stake with the pointed spade missing between stake 5 and stake 7. I could tell you about my mother, Sandra then and for a few moments at…
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the Scarf
begins a vacant sweater empty, inherited wool itchy and unbecoming easily caught up, I tangle and hang by each thread pilled and snagging on every pattern every thorn I have. the threads expose my inaptitude bring light and shadow to my weakest equilibriums. I find (in time) a pencil eraser worth of footing…
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six-word memoir(s)
I was born an island; seeking. we all have a mother (wound.) I remember: the spilling kitchen sink : shrimp fried rice and cockroach poison : the scent of my father’s cigarettes : Department of Children and Family Services the lie I live, is true. about this writing last week I learned about…
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Merry Christmas Darling
In the shower this morning I reached for the volumizing shampoo and there you were, clear as Chrismas in my mind. And it would be weird except for it’s December and tomorrow’s the 25th so, you know- you’re around. I decided beneath the steady stream of hot city water and rising subtle steam to sing…
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grief (or nine christmases)
a winter ripe orange use to sleep at the forgotten foot of his christmas stocking each year, mine too. my sweet boy doesn’t remember his first orange, his first christmas. not his second or third even too (i do) will he remember this one? his tenth; a bumpy round fidget ball where the firm slick…
santos scribes 