To the houseplants during a depressive episode I used to tear open helicopter seeds. I’d bury them in the mulch and wait for growth. They came down by the thousands, tumbling from the three large maple trees. I remember the smell that came with them as they decayed. We’d rake them up. Those that were... Continue Reading →
Texting my dad about the video store closing We used to rent movies in the summer. Walking at night: the air warm, light, cooling from the day. Our street quiet: filled with the humming of the orange streetlights. I don’t remember what we talked about. We’d rent 80s comedies and buy boxes of candy that... Continue Reading →
Road Trip with Anne Brontë Declivities, she says, and luster of August. Everything becomes scenery when one must paint. A blessed single life is declared, but the narrative is decidedly nonlinear; there is refusing and there is wanting. I think of Wildfell as a truck stop—someplace you can see from a great distance but don’t... Continue Reading →
Maybe you hear a bell, heard it for years, clang-clang-clang. You sit on the floor, legs in a deep V, lean across to your left ankle.
She supposes plenty of hunters enjoy what they do rage-free but wonders if this isn’t worse. Maybe, she thinks, we are all predator and prey.
The Founding of Rome I’m trying to feed baby girl, and she shakes her head, slaps the spoon from my hand, raspberries away any puree I manage to force into her mouth. I give myself a time out, but it doesn’t help. “You have to eat!” I come at her again. This time she shields... Continue Reading →
I pray for a fire. It would break the monotony of telephone rings and the buzzing of the damned lights.
Later, the girls stand in front of the open refrigerator, slightly feral: slices of cheese torn from plastic, pickles from the jar, a swig of Hershey’s syrup, jelly scooped out with a finger.